DC Book 6: We've Loved These Days
by aubreysmom
Summary: 13 years into the future for the Lelands. What's changed? Who's still around and who is NOT? Fond memories, tough choices, and never a dull moment! SERIES COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: Changes

**We've Loved These Days**

(6th and final installment in _The Dillingham Chronicles)_

by aubreysmom

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**Disclaimer:** The STFBE characters are the property of Paxson Entertainment and Pebblehut Productions. All other characters are of my own creation. Sam Leland appears courtesy of RivenRebelPoet. 

**Author's note:** This is rather bittersweet for me, because these characters have come to be so real. Closing the book on Elizabeth Dillingham Leland is like saying good-bye to a dear friend. I shall miss her keenly. But she's still here for me to visit anytime.

Remember, this series deviated from the show clear back during _Seeing Double_; we're still in that "alternate universe"...

Thanks so much to all who have betaed, inspired, taught, corrected, and basically bullied me to complete the series. H.S., R.K., Bren, A.G., Lane, and Paul…most special thanks to all of you.

**Warning:** This fic will deal with the death of a major character. Just so you know ahead of time.

**Time Frame:** Thirteen years in the future from the ending of _The Beginning of Forever_

_**NOTE:** American Sign Language glossing is in ALL CAPS. If a long passage is in italics, it's a memory (ie, Chapter 2). Song lyrics and characters' thoughts are also in italics.

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**Chapter 1: Changes**

_Leland Residence_

_Columbia Heights, Washington D.C._

_Sunday, October 21, 2018

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What would very likely be the last big rainstorm before winter set in was lashing at the windows, driven by a wind that howled around the house like a thing possessed. Within the warmth of the home, however, it simply served to complement the Bach concerto on the CD player and the mahogany-paneled walls of the study.

At 5 p.m., the sun had already left what little light it had cast today to the charcoal of twilight, and the glow of the desk lamp illuminated the dark walls to an amber radiance that enveloped the lone figure at the desk.

A leather book sat open on the desk, and the scratch of a fountain pen, preferred instrument for the current project, was the only sound that permeated the music and the storm. Solitude in the written word combined with the rush of nostalgia that had plagued the writer all day.

The meeting with Dimitrius yesterday evening had prompted a flood of memories that followed him as his family had wandered around DC in the rain today, one of their favorite pastimes. He'd been able to handle it— until they got home and he was left with his thoughts while the girls got cleaned up. Now it was high time to sit down and get it all out onto the paper.

_Twenty-five years. How is it possible for so much time to have passed in what seems like the blink of an eye? _The pen flew over the paper, the writer becoming lost in the series of numbers one used to document one's life. _Forty-eight years since birth, twenty-five with the Bureau, thirteen of marriage and eleven as a father. Five years since Mom died, eight since Dad, ten since… since things changed irrevocably at work._

He sat back for a moment with a frown, not ready to let his memories stray in that direction just yet. Some events just never got put behind you, no matter how hard you tried to push on. _Later_, Myles thought. _There'll be time enough for that later. I'll deal with it tomorrow, in the chapel at the Bureau._

Pushing his journal aside, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, allowing the classical music to do its job… clear his mind. He looked up a moment later when a soft hand touched his shoulder.

"You okay?" Elizabeth Leland's voice was soft, but it had never lost the unique quality he'd never been able to put a description to, yet craved from the first time he'd ever heard it.

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, pulling her down onto his lap and holding her tightly. "Just trying to process all this, is all. Twenty-five years… it's just a strange feeling to realize it, I guess."

She ran her hand through his hair; the touch of grey at his temples wasn't that noticeable in the blond strands yet, but she teased him anyway. "I doubt you're ready for a rocking chair yet, love, or they'd have not offered you this position."

"I know," he chuckled. "Just… teaching at Quantico… can you see _me_ in front of a class of wet-behind-the-ears cadets who all think I'm teaching because I can't handle the field anymore?"

Her laugh echoed around the room, stirring his soul just as it had every day for the past thirteen years. "Yes, and I can see their faces after you bring every one of them to their proverbial knees when you prove them completely wrong and then classically gloat about it. You and Jack both."

She leaned over and kissed him, and he let the feeling complete his journey back from the dark memories of a few minutes ago. His arms tightened around her; he'd always drowned in her kisses, her touch, the feel of her in his arms…

"Mom! Dad! Oh, sheesh…" Two faces appeared in the doorway, noses wrinkled identically in the disgust only parental displays of affection can have on offspring. "Mom, are we gonna make dinner, or are you two going to spend the rest of the afternoon making out?" Her fingers flew almost as fast as her words, and her sister giggled.

"Sarah Anne Leland, where did you get such a mouth on you?" Elizabeth signed back as she spoke; she was smiling, though.

The eleven-year-old shrugged. "Uncle Sam— where else?" She grabbed her sister's hand and they bolted from the doorway, still giggling.

"This is your reward for letting Sam and Tara baby-sit them as much as you have," Myles smirked. "It's your own fault. I warned you."

"I had hoped that Rachel might be spared the influence," she sighed dramatically. "But Sarah will make sure that she's well-versed, I'm certain. You want to come have a glass of wine while the girls demolish the kitchen?"

Myles laughed again. "Sure. I can meander down memory lane later."

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Sunday dinners were usually a pretty quiet affair; Elizabeth would either have something simmering in the crock-pot all day, or she'd defrost something out of the freezer (tonight was "Mom's lasagna," which was legend in DC). Then they'd all pitch in and put together the finishing touches. It was their special day together. 

It was one of the things that Myles was most looking forward to with this new job; being able to be there every week now. He'd been fortunate over the years; he hadn't missed very many. And they always made sure Dad did more than just sit back and watch; tonight he was in charge of chopping tomatoes and zucchini for the salad.

_They made sure?_ he thought now with a smile as he watched Sarah whipping up her special garlic butter for the bread. _I wouldn't miss this. _

His oldest was something of an enigma at eleven, and he knew it would only get worse as she navigated through adolescence. But he knew her; she was the image of him at that age, though a lot happier. Only her eyes were different, the emerald pools inherited from Elizabeth. Blonde hair swung across her shoulders now as she put a little muscle into mixing the butter she hadn't quite softened enough.

She had his intense personality, the dry wit (although a great portion of that came from Sam's tutoring, as well), the tendency to lock her feelings away when they got to be too much. But she also had his innate protective streak, as well as his brand of temper. It might take a while to brew, but when it did… He watched now as she whipped around.

MOM! she signed. Then she placed an "R" handshape over her heart. RACHEL! THROW CARROT HER HIT ME! Her face was scrunched into a scowl, and her voice rose in pitch as only an outraged pre-teen's can.

Elizabeth turned and looked at her. NO, she signed with a giggle. THROW CARROT ME HIT YOU. Her eyebrows went up and her eyes widened on the emphasis of ME.

DADDY! The sign held as much drama as her voice. Rachel, catching that his attention was focused behind her, had turned around now as well from tearing greens for the salad, and was watching the exchange with a grin.

Myles gave his wife a mock-stern look. ELIZABETH, he signed as he spoke, raising an "E" handshape to his right temple. Then he shook a finger at her.

Rachel was giggling at her sister. Her face broke into a wicked grin as she signed and spoke, beginning by bringing an "s" hand to her temple. SARAH CARROT NOT LIKE; THROW ONE WAY SHE EAT.

The use of the namesigns, rather than fingerspelling, was a natural progression as they'd dealt with Rachel's loss. Because Elizabeth's sister, Connie, was Deaf, the signs had been used occasionally, but now it was a regular thing in their family. The day he'd married Elizabeth, Connie had given Myles his own namesign.

It wasn't something you chose for yourself, most especially if you weren't Deaf. A member of the Deaf community usually did, and it was generally defined by something specific and unique to the individual, and involved the first initial.

For example, because he was known for his collection of suspenders, and generally was more comfortable "dressed up," his namesign had evolved into an "M" handshape placed sideways at the right side of the chest, then pulled out slightly as if pulling on a pair of suspenders. The girls still giggled about it even today.

Right now, though, Sarah wasn't anywhere near giggling. She leveled a glare at her mother and her sister that rivaled anything Myles had ever leveled at Howie Fines. It might be mostly for dramatic effect, but there was a bit of that temper swirling around like a hurricane. She huffed once, exaggerating it for her sister's benefit, and flounced back around to finish spreading the garlic butter on the bread.

Myles chuckled softly as peace (or at least quiet) returned to the kitchen. He dumped the chopped vegetables into the salad bowl, then sat back as Rachel tossed them. His gaze was on his older daughter, though, and his thoughts strayed to just how appropriate the hurricane image was for her…


	2. Chapter 2: Out of the Storm

**Chapter 2: _Out of the Storm_

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_September, 2007 (**eleven years previous**)_

_Leland Residence, Columbia Heights_

_5 p.m._

_Myles got out of his car and made a beeline out the garage door to the yard area near the property line they shared with Tom Webber. The sky above was darkening fast, and the wind was picking up. _

_The weather forecasters were saying the hurricane would likely make landfall within 30 miles of downtown DC (rare, but not unheard of), and they'd been working for two days now to get things ready. Well, he'd been doing most of the work, but only because his wife had finally seen the wisdom in taking it easy at this point, in her condition._

"_Elizabeth, what are you doing?"_

_She looked up from where she was kneeling in the dirt, putting the finishing touches on covers for the rosebushes. "What does it look like I'm doing?" she countered. "Making sure your prize roses don't end up in Virginia."_

"_You're eight and a half months pregnant, for heaven's sake! I told you I'd do it when I got home." His voice rose in pitch, only partially to get his exasperation across in the stiffening wind._

_Elizabeth allowed him to help her to her feet, then she slipped her arm around his waist and smiled up at him. "I needed to get_ _outside for a little bit," she answered calmly, "and Tom Webber helped me carry the stuff out here, so I wasn't lifting anything. And I'm not going to let your pride and joy get blown away. Besides, you promised me a bouquet for my room at the hospital."_

_Myles blinked. "Webber helped?"_

_She laughed. "Yes. I'll admit, I started to do it by myself, but he was walking his dog and came bustling over, informing me that there was no way he was going to have an FBI agent banging down his door because his very pregnant wife had tried to move a bunch of heavy stuff and hurt herself."_

_He shook his head in disbelief, and she laughed again. "By the way, he also asked me if you were aware that I'm the most stubborn woman on the planet."_

"_Believe me, I'm well aware of it," he commented dryly. "Now go inside and sit down for a bit, please. The rest of the team will be here shortly."_

_They'd decided, since it was entirely possible that they'd be needed at some point during the storm, even just to help DCPD, that a central location would be easiest to work from. The Gans lived a little further out, so the Lelands' home had been volunteered. And Myles had felt better knowing that Donna Gans and the kids would be there in case the team did have to go out. He didn't much like the idea of his very pregnant wife alone in their house in the middle of a hurricane.

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_**(three hours later, 8 p.m.)**_

_The wind howled now, and the rain sounded like it would come right through the storm shutters they'd finished putting up not two hours ago. The electricity was out, but the fireplace glowed and the company was fairly relaxed. It had the feel of a slumber party about it— portable munchies, warm cider and water for cocoa kept warm on the hearth, and a huge collection of comfortable cushions and sleeping bags. They'd basically congregated on the floor, exchanging stories and good-natured banter, all except Davey Gans. The 16-year-old was sprawled against the hearth, engrossed in his Game Boy. An ample supply of batteries was stashed in his knapsack._

_Elizabeth suddenly stiffened beside her husband, and he turned from absently rubbing her back. "You okay, sweetheart?"_

"_Yes," she replied, her voice strained just slightly. "Just another Braxton-Hicks contraction. They've been hitting a couple of times a day for the last week. Nothing I can't breathe through in a sec."_

_Dimitrius chuckled. "Those things plagued Donna for about a month before Tanya was born." He pulled his wife closer to him. "She kept saying, 'just get to the real thing already!' It wasn't until they were about ten minutes apart that we figured out it was the real thing."_

"_Dad…" 18-year-old Tanya Gans rolled her eyes at her father. Her dark skin might hide the blush, but the exasperation in her voice was unmistakable. "I'm so glad you were on a case the night of the prom…"_

"_How much longer, Liz?" Sue Hudson asked amid the chuckles that circled the room. They'd made sure there were several battery- or oil- lamps around as well, so Sue could lip-read easier._

"_About two weeks, or that's what the doctor said," Elizabeth replied, signing as she spoke. "At least it'll be after this storm is gone."_

_Bobby Manning was shaking his head. "I still can't picture Myles changing diapers. I don't care how much of a good influence you are on him, Liz; I just cannot get an image in my head of that."_

_Myles entertained the Aussie with a classic nose-up-slightly "I-beg-your-pardon" expression. "I'll have you know we've already been practicing in our childbirth classes, and the teacher said I was a natural. Now, seeing you standing at a church altar without restraints will be something I'd never imagined."_

_There was laughter all around at that, and Darcy D'Angelo wrapped her arm around Bobby's waist. "Then bring your camera, Myles, because it's happening December 5th."_

"_In fact," Bobby commented, a bit hesitantly. "We had a bit of a discussion, and it didn't seem fair that the ladies all get to be bridesmaids and I only get one best man. So, if Jack doesn't mind sharing the glory…"_

_Jack laughed. "Hey, if it means I don't have to come up with an eloquent toast, I'm all for it."_

_Now the Aussie's eyes dropped for just a second, and when he looked up at the man he'd sat across a desk from for the better part of ten years there was a warmth in his eyes he'd never let show before. "Myles… uh… would you stand with me and make sure I don't bolt at the last minute?" He acknowledged the shock in Myles' eyes and covered the moment with, "and D, too, of course."_

_Myles swallowed once; then let his own walls drop enough to meet the gift he'd just received with an equal one. "Bobby, I'd be honored."_

_The moment could have gotten awkward for the guys, if Elizabeth hadn't grabbed Myles' arm at that moment and all but doubled over, breathing hard._

"_Sweetheart?" His voice rose slightly._

_It took a minute, but her breathing slowed and she sat back up, leaning back against the cushion he'd propped against the wall for her. "Whoa. That one was rough. I'm all right, love. It just caught me off-guard, is all."_

"_Are you sure?"_

_The psychologist laughed softly. "Will you relax? We're not due for another two weeks. Quit treating me like I'm spun glass."_

"_When we've been through this once, then I'll relax," he replied with a smile. "Until then, I'm in unknown territory, and the rule is 'paranoia.'"_

_His comment brought laughter all around; they were the first of the rest of the team to be expanding their family. Tara and Sam had married about four months after them, followed by Jack and Sue the following spring. Lucy, who was taking care of her grandmother this evening, had just married a stockbroker she'd met while his company was helping on a case, and she'd been offered a position in Office Services, just below Randy Pitts, who was scheduled to retire shortly. Word had it she would move into the position when it opened._

"_At least Sam's in San Francisco for all this," Tara commented with a sigh. "He still gets shaky during thunderstorms, let alone a full-blown hurricane."_

"_Is that the only aftermath left from the thing with Matthews?" Bobby asked. _

"_Yes. And even that's fading," she replied. "He's doing great." She reached into the cat carrier and stroked Glorfindel gently. Her own cat had died a year previous, and now the white cat with the black nose had become as important to her as to Sam._

_Elizabeth started to get to her feet, her breath coming a bit heavy. When Myles started to reach for her, she waved him off. "I'm fine; I just need to use the bathroom. I'll be right back."_

_D chuckled at the exasperation in her voice as she left the room. "They should give combat pay to expectant fathers. Especially during the last trimester."_

_Donna Gans swatted him on the shoulder. "You try carrying around an extra thirty pounds for three months, and see how cheerful you are."_

_Suddenly, a shaky voice reached them from the recesses of the house, barely above the sound of the storm. "Myles?"_

"_Yes, sweetheart?"_

"_Uh…" There was a pause. "You might want to bring Donna with you."_

_He was on his feet immediately. "What? Why?" He glanced at D's wife, who was already moving._

"_Liz, are you okay?" she called, disappearing into the hallway. A moment later, she was back, her eyes wide. "Myles, how well did you two do at Lamaze?"_

"_Fine," he replied, not sure what was happening. "Why?"_

_She smiled faintly. "Because you're about to get the full experience. Liz's water just broke."_

_He felt the blood drain from his face so fast he had to grab hold of the stairway railing. "What?" A particularly strong gust of wind rattled the house so hard that he felt it actually shudder; a very good match for the way his pulse was racing._

_D was at his side instantly, shaking him slightly by the arm. "Pass out later. Right now your wife needs you, functioning." He swung around to the rest of the group. "Ok, who used their first-aid training last?"_

_Tara was up now, too. "That would be me." She grinned at Bobby and Jack. "I don't think the Marx Brothers would be very good at this. One passed-out male is enough right now."_

"_You're in charge then, kiddo." Dimitrius said, steering Myles over toward the sofa and sitting him down. "Upstairs isn't going to work in this storm. We don't want to take the chance of any part of the roof blowing off. It's here or in the study; your choice."_

_The Harvard grad blinked, trying to get his mind around D's question and failing. "Uh…"_

_Tara took over. "Here's better, D," she said briskly. "That oversized ottoman will slide right up to the sofa here and make a perfect spot for her. There's clean dropcloths in the right-hand cabinet in the garage, top shelf. We painted the nursery last weekend, and I put the extra supplies there myself."_

"_Right. Jack, go get a couple." D whirled around as Jack disappeared. "Bobby, Darcy, find every towel they've got. Then check the bathrooms for a box of dental floss – preferably not the mint stuff."_

"_Towels… linen closet…" Myles was still trying to think clearly. "Upstairs hall… second right."_

"_Thank you," Dimitrius replied as a cry came from the downstairs bathroom. "Davey, take Levi and Glorfindel into the dining room, and keep them there. Stay away from the windows and the door to the patio. Myles, stay put. Donna and I will get Liz."_

_Tara had gone to the kitchen to scrub down her hands; she returned a minute later with a large mixing bowl and a pair of kitchen shears. Jack had gotten back from the garage and Sue was helping him get the dropcloths spread over the sofa. Then he went to grab the lamps and set them up so they'd have light to work with. After a moment, he looked around as if at a loss for something else to do. Then Tara, grinning, grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear. The look of abject relief on her unit leader's face made her laugh._

_As he disappeared upstairs, Sue grabbed Tara's arm. "I want to help, but what can I do that doesn't involve running around in the dark where I can't hear or read anyone?"_

"_I have the perfect job for you," Tara signed and spoke. Then she pointed at Myles. "Keep him conscious until the Lamaze training kicks in. You're the backup coach."_

_Bobby and Darcy were back now, loaded down with towels, and by the time D and Donna helped Elizabeth back into the living room, a cozy little delivery area was all set up. D then sent Bobby and Darcy upstairs to help Jack. _

_The psychologist gasped as they got her down and Tara draped a sheet over her from the waist down._

"_No! Not…" she groaned as another contraction took over; as soon as it passed, though, she tried to get up. "Not… sofa… Italian…leather… Myles…"_

"_Good heavens, sweetheart, we'll buy another one if we have to." His thought processes seemed to have kicked back into gear, because he took her by the shoulders and eased her down as Tara finished getting her ready and helped her swing her feet up onto the ottoman. "Just relax and let the rest of us worry about the details. Sue," he said, touching his friend's arm, "will you grab a couple of the big pillows from in front of the fireplace, please? She'll need them behind her back."_

_As Sue went to grab the cushions, Tara spoke to them both. "Liz, you're not quite dilated enough. Almost, but it's really important that you not push right now. You're going to have to breathe through the contractions. Got it?"_

_Elizabeth nodded, cringing as the wind shrieked around the house. "We can't call Dr. Lawrence. The phones are out."_

_Myles smoothed back her hair. "It's all right. As soon as the eye starts over us, I'll go get her. She only lives a block away." He took the cushion Sue handed him and placed it behind his wife's back, then helped Sue place the other one. "I guess this one just couldn't wait, huh?"_

"_Your sense of timing, I'm sure," the psychologist retorted. "And your refusal to take the easy way in anythi— oh, here we go again!" She closed her eyes tightly as another contraction started, her breath going out of control as the pain hit._

"_Not yet, Liz!" Tara reminded her. "Myles, you've got to help her focus; don't let her hyperventilate, and don't let her push."_

"_You heard Doc Williams, love," the Harvard grad intoned softly, catching her gaze with his own and smiling at the raised brow she shot him. "Hey, she uses Williams for work; it's habit. Now, just like in class; in and out, slow and easy. Stay with me. Right here." He pointed to his own eyes, breathing with her to keep her in rhythm. "Almost there…"_

"_Almost… there?" she gasped in reply, her green eyes a mixture of humor and exasperation. "You… trade places… and see… if… you're… almost there."_

_Sue caught the fond smile that crossed his face, and glanced at Tara, her face furrowed in confusion. Her friend grinned. "Nothing important, Sue," she quipped, "Just a bit of mid-labor husband 'abuse.' Minus the colorful metaphors I heard the last time I had to deliver a baby."_

_Sue smiled in response as the contraction ended and Elizabeth took several deep breaths. Then Myles glanced up. "Hey, I knew there had to be some reason I put up with Lucy's barbs all these years. Good preparation."_

"_How you doing, Liz?" Tara asked._

"_You tell me." Elizabeth's voice held an edge that made her friend smile again._

"_I meant how are you feeling? You've got about a half-centimeter left to go."_

"_Do you need anything, love?" Myles was rubbing her back gently._

"_An epidural would be nice about now," the psychologist quipped._

_He laughed very softly. "I'm afraid we're fresh out. You sound like your throat's pretty dry, though. Would you like something to drink?"_

"_A shot of your best Scotch?"_

_Tara's laugh bubbled up. "That's it, Liz. You hang onto your sense of humor, amiga. You're gonna need it. D, can you grab a cup of ice chips from the kitchen? It's best for her."_

"_Yeah." He headed for the kitchen area, talking as he did so. "The rest of the guys and Darcy are working at relocating your nursery to the study for right now. Give the three of you a little privacy after all this. Tanya's getting some water warming to clean up the baby."_

_Donna returned from near the fireplace, where she'd been listening to the portable short-wave radio. "Weather Service says the eye-wall is about five miles out from us right now. It's going to go right over us."_

"_Well, if the house is still standing after that, it's perfect," D replied. "We'll have the max time to go get Liz's doctor, and get them to the hospital if that's needed." He handed Sue a cup full of crushed ice with a spoon in it, then moved to help his wife and daughter with their preparations._

"_Here you go, Liz." Sue fed her a spoonful of ice. _

_The psychologist signed THANK YOU gratefully, then leaned her head against Myles' chest. Another contraction started, and for a few minutes there was no sound but her labored breathing and his soft encouragement. As it ended, she brought her hands to her face._

"_Are you sure the Scotch isn't an option?" she whimpered softly._

_He smiled, stroking her hair, and signing S-C-O-T-C-H AGAIN SHE ASK to Sue, who smiled as well. "Sweetheart, you're doing fine. I know this wasn't exactly the way we'd planned it, but think of the story you'll have to put in the baby book."_

_Elizabeth couldn't help but smile wanly. "You have a point there. But I think I'll let you write it, journal-master." Another contraction stole her voice, and when it passed she looked at Tara. "Please tell me we finally made it to that magic ten centimeters."_

"_You're in luck," the petite agent replied. "Ten it is. Now, next time, get ready to bear down, and let's get this done."_

_The wind seemed to gear up even as they did, howling around the house now like a freight train bearing down. Even Sue reacted as the house vibrated to its foundation. "You did have a good house inspector, right Myles?" she asked._

"_He said it should withstand a hurricane," the Harvard grad responded. "Now we'll see exactly how much of an exaggeration that was." He could feel Elizabeth tense next to him and focused on her immediately. "Here we go, love. Just like we practiced."_

"_You just remember to add your push to mine," she gasped as she grabbed hold of her knees and took a breath._

"_Ok, Liz, now!" Tara cried. "One, two, three…" Myles and Sue helped Elizabeth by supporting her back as she pushed with all she had. When Tara reached "ten," Elizabeth took a quick breath and they did it again. And once more…_

"_Ok, Liz, relax." Tara ordered as the contraction passed. Myles stroked his wife's hair out of her face and helped her take a mouthful of ice chips._

"_It's ok, sweetheart," he murmured. "You're doing fine."_

"_If somebody would just turn off the stereo roaring outside," she gasped wearily, "it'd be a walk in the park."_

_Sue laughed softly. "I usually have it this loud, just so I can feel it." Now she decided a little distraction was in order. "So, have you two decided on names yet?"_

_Myles shook his head. "We narrowed it down to three 'finalists' for either a boy or a girl, but that's as far as we got."_

"_What?" Tara quipped. "No 'Myles Robert Leland IV' finalized?"_

_He gave his sister-in-law a look. "No," he defended amiably. "With M. Robert, Robert, and Myles already in line, we couldn't figure out how to keep another one separate. We did talk about maybe Matthew Robert, after both our fathers."_

"_I like that," Sue said. "Very classy."_

"_We can talk about it in a minute," Elizabeth broke in. "Here we go again."_

_All attention focused for a long two minutes as another contraction took over. The pain and pressure was incredible now, even with the breath control, and Elizabeth found tears escaping._

_Just then, there was a loud crash outside, and the house trembled; one of the oak trees had undoubtedly uprooted and was now very likely halfway into their garage door. Glorfindel let out a yowl from the dining room at almost the same moment a cry ripped from Elizabeth's lips._

"_Almost there, Liz!" Tara cried. "I see the head. Take a quick break, and on the next contraction, let's see if we can get this little one to make his or her debut."_

_Bobby poked his head out from the study. "Was that 'Fin or Liz? I couldn't tell."_

"_Both!" Myles retorted without looking a him. "I hope you all have that nursery set up, since you're obviously bored enough to be interrupting!"_

_The Aussie started to respond, but Darcy swatted him across the back of his head and dragged him back into the study. "Get back here and finish this crib! Jack's useless with a screwdriver!"_

_Myles shot a glare over his shoulder at them, then turned back to find his wife giggling between obviously pained breaths. "Sweetheart?" he asked, hoping she wasn't going to start hyperventilating. _

"_Oh!" she laughed, trying to work an explanation in between breaths. "I just… Sue… don't tell me you're one of these poor wives who has to do all the repairs yourself because your husband makes a bigger mess by trying to fix…" she trailed off, laughing again._

_Sue laughed now as well. "I only got part of that, but yes, if I understand what you're asking, Jack isn't allowed the combination to the toolbox at home."_

_Elizabeth held her arm over her stomach. "Oh, that hurt like crazy, but I needed it." She grasped her husband's hand and smiled. "Come on, love. One more, and we can decide on that name."_

_He grinned at her. "And I can go inspect the crib before we use it."_

_She started to respond, but felt the contraction grip her and grabbed her knees again. "Oh, boy…"_

_It felt like she was pushing her entire insides out, and she could only faintly hear Tara saying, "That's it, Liz! Almost there! Come on!"_

_And then the pressure was gone, and a tiny cry sounded like angel song. She lay back and took a deep, deep breath, looking up at her husband, who was staring at the little person in Tara's arms with a mixture of joy and utter wonder on his face._

"_What is it?" he asked breathlessly._

"_It's a baby," she teased. "Come here, Papa, and cut the cord, then you can see for yourself."_

_Elizabeth gave him a gentle push, her face glowing through the exhaustion. "Go on," she whispered. "Welcome our son or daughter into the world."_

_He moved down next to Tara as D came back over and handed him the kitchen shears, now well-sterilized with hot water on the hearth. Hands shaking slightly, he cut the cord just above where D had tied it off. Donna brought over a blanket, and Tara handed the squirming bundle to Myles. The sound of the storm died down as he just gazed at the tiny form, his heart written all over his face and not caring who saw._

_Elizabeth watched her husband, her heart full as she saw tears form at the corners of his eyes. "Well, don't keep me in suspense," she said softly. "You have to share, you know."_

_He looked up at her, and his voice broke as he moved back to sit beside her. "It's a girl," he said softly. "A beautiful little daughter."_

"_Oh!" Elizabeth reached for the tiny bundle and cradled it to her breast, moving the blanket aside to see the little face more clearly. "She's beautiful!"_

_He smiled. "I thought I just said that." A chuckle escaped as she swatted at him. "Just like her mother," he murmured as he pressed his lips to his wife's cheek. _

"_It got awfully quiet out here all of a sudden." Bobby, Darcy and Jack peeked out of the study together, the Aussie voicing their collective curiosity. "Are we allowed to enter the sanctum now?"_

_Tara grinned as she wiped her hands. "Come meet the newest member of the team."

* * *

:_

* * *

"_See?" D teased him when they got back to the house with Dr. Lawrence, who immediately went to see Elizabeth and the baby in the study. "No new teeth, no crawling yet. You didn't miss a thing in the twenty minutes we were gone."_

_Myles grinned a bit ruefully. "Okay, okay, O Wise One. You were right."_

"_We're gonna go scout the nearby neighbors and see if anyone needs some immediate help before the backwash starts. Give you guys a time alone." The older man turned to round up the rest of them when Myles caught his arm._

"_D… thank you. I can't imagine what would have happened if you… Tara… all of you… hadn't been here." His eyes dropped a bit. "I— Thank you."_

_Dimitrius raised a brow at him. "You better get that image of yours back in place before we start to expect the teddy bear, Slim. You'll never live it down." The accompanying grin spoke volumes of how much the man had known anyway, all these years. "Enjoy the quiet. We'll be back in a bit."_

_Myles watched them all file out, torn between duty and his new family. Tara was last, and she shook a finger at him sternly. "Not an iota of guilt," she warned. "You were planning on two weeks paternity leave anyway. It starts right now."_

_He smiled and nodded, then turned to find Dr. Lawrence coming out of the study. "Doctor?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"_

"_Everything's fine," she reassured. "Mother and baby girl are both healthy and strong, though your wife is understandably exhausted. The baby nursed for a few minutes, and now they're both asleep."_

"_That's wonderful," he breathed. "Thank you, Dr. Lawrence."_

"_Keep Elizabeth off her feet as much as possible for a couple of days, then bring them both in and we'll check them again. I'll call the pediatrician, and we'll do both exams at once. You have people who can help while you're at work, I assume."_

_He nodded. "I'm taking two weeks off, but my mother is also flying in as soon as the storm lets up and I can call her."_

_The doctor smiled. "Then I shall leave them in your capable hands, Mr. Leland. Congratulations."

* * *

:_

* * *

"_Toast."_

_He looked up to find his wife smiling at him. He was sitting in the rocking chair the team had brought down to the study as well, holding his newborn daughter and marveling at the tiny life that had just graced them._

"_What?" he asked. "You're hungry, love?"_

_She smiled knowingly. "No, but I've seen that look on your face only one other time in my life, Myles Leland, and that was on our wedding day. You're toast. That little girl has her Daddy wrapped right up tight."_

_He laughed softly and watched the perfect little fingers wrap around his index finger, not even going all the way around yet. "Guilty as charged," he admitted. "So I suppose we should decide on a name for her, huh?"_

_Elizabeth's green eyes misted. "I already made my choice, love. Let's see if the same finalist popped into your head when you first saw her."_

_Myles looked down at his daughter again. "Sarah," he said softly, smiling when Elizabeth nodded. "Sarah Anne Leland." …

* * *

:_

* * *

He watched her now as she pulled the bread out of the oven and laid it on the butcher block next to him. "Dad?" she asked with a grin, waving the potholder in front of his face. "You still awake?"

Myles reached out and tweaked her nose. "Just wandering a bit."

"Dinner's ready, and Mom said to come get you along with the bread."

He laughed out loud at that. "Can't _possibly_ forget your signature garlic bread, even if you leave Dad in the kitchen. Come on, let's eat."


	3. Chapter 3: Heart to Heart

**Chapter 3: Heart to Heart **

**

* * *

**

Author's Note: ALL CAPS indicate ASL (American Sign Language) glossing. It's also in proper ASL syntax, to give you an idea of the difference from English.

**

* * *

**

_Sunday night, 2018_

_9:00 pm

* * *

_

"Daddy?"

Myles turned from his perusal of the pictures on the mantel to see Rachel standing at the bottom of the stairs. He gave her an exaggerated frown as he signed. NO BED YOU WHY? "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

The eight-year-old nodded soberly. She signed, MOMMY SARAH STORY READ NOW. YOU-ME (we) PLEASE TALK NOW? The fact that she was signing exclusively tipped him off that it was something important, and that Elizabeth probably didn't know she was down here.

Myles motioned her to join him on the sofa, and she snuggled up against him. TALK ABOUT WHAT? He asked, brows raised in question.

She looked at him for a long moment, and a sad expression flashed across her face. YOUR VOICE ME MISS.

He had to swallow hard as it hit. It had only been four years. She'd already been very articulate at age four, so her speech hadn't been a problem; but they'd spent so much time together, reading or her asking him a million questions about everything under the sun.

He'd asked her once why she always preferred him to read to her, instead of Elizabeth. "I love your voice, Daddy," was the simple reply. It was one of the harder adjustments she'd had to make.

Pushing the memory aside, he took her hand and placed it at his throat so she could feel the vibration, and spoke softly. "I know, sweetheart. But you still remember, right?"

Rachel nodded, a smile gracing her fine features. YES. ME REMEMBER ME. YOUR VOICE LOW LIKE LION ROAR.

Myles laughed. "Thanks, I think." Then he reverted to their silent conversation. TALK ABOUT WHAT NOW?

The blue-grey eyes met his again. DADDY SAD TODAY WHY?

He didn't realize it had come across that way. NOT SAD, he tried to explain. Simplifying English into ASL was a feat he still struggled with, even after all this time.

She smiled a little, but the look in her eyes told him she knew better. One dark brow went up as if in puzzlement. NEW JOB. YOU TEACHER. She then smiled and widened her eyes as if in surprise. YOU HAPPY.

Myles sighed; life was so simple when you were eight. YES, he replied. HAPPY. ME RACHEL MORE TIME PLAY. MORE ICE CREAM. He smiled, trying to lighten the serious expression on her sweet face.

She wasn't buying it for a second. ICE CREAM NOT FIX NOW, she signed. DADDY SAD WHY?

He smiled; he couldn't help it. Rachel might have her mother's raven hair and delicate features, but she was Dad's girl through and through. And not just because of her eyes. There was a bond between them that he knew stemmed partially from his protectiveness of her, but also in the fact that she could dive right through to his soul with a glance, and never let him get away with hiding his feelings. Again, just like her mother.

He looked at her for a minute, then attempted to explain. NOT SAD, he began with his brows raised and shaking his head slightly back and forth. BIG CHANGE FOR DADDY, NEW JOB. BIG CHANGE BRING MEMORY MANY. OLD FRIENDS, WORK FRIENDS, DADDY REMEMBER MUCH. SOME HAPPY SOME SAD. DADDY NOT SAD.

Rachel nodded in understanding, her eyes grave. O-K. I UNDERSTAND I. MAKE DADDY HAPPY? PARTY FRIDAY? FINISH MEMORY FINISH?

He gave her a big hug, then kissed her cheek. YES. DADDY HAPPY PARTY MAKE. US SEE FRIENDS. GIVE L-E-V-I LOVE. BED YOU GO NOW. He then held up his right hand with his thumb out, index and pinky fingers raised; he shook it slightly.

OK. I LOVE YOU DADDY. She walked upstairs; at the top, she turned and blew him a kiss, then raced for her room.

Myles chuckled. _And to think there was a time when I never thought I could survive parenthood. Now I don't know how I'd survive without them._

But the conversation with Rachel had sent him back into his memories again. His eyes were moist as he slipped back in time to a hospital room, and then a conversation…

* * *

_**May 2014 (four years previous)**_ _George Washington University Hospital_

_Pediatrics, Room 225_

_Bacterial Meningitis— it struck fear into the heart of any parent, and the Lelands had been no exception. Although the vaccine had improved over the years, it was still not guaranteed. Rachel had been in the hospital for a week now, most of that time semi- or unconscious. She was holding her own, though, and now it looked as though the worst was past. But meningitis could leave any number of aftereffects, and that was the current fear._

_Myles sat by her bedside now, absently stroking his youngest daughter's dark hair and letting the prayer in his heart continue its loop. Elizabeth had taken 7-year-old Sarah down to the cafeteria for a snack and a break._

Four years old_, he thought, his heart clenching all over again; it had been so common in the past week that he didn't even feel the pain of it anymore. _Too young to have to go through this. Too young to stand that close to death. Even if she did beat it this time.

_He loved all his "girls" deeply, but Rachel had managed to find a special place in his heart from the moment she was born. He didn't know if it was as simple as the fact that they'd actually been in a hospital this time, that everything had gone as normally as possible, or if it was Rachel herself. _

_They'd handed her to him as soon as she was cleaned off, while he was still wiping his own hands from cutting the cord, and he'd brought her over to Elizabeth._

"_She's beautiful!"_

_He had smiled. "Just like her mom and her sister. How could she not be?" _

_At the sound of his voice, two miniature eyes had opened and looked up at him from the folds of the pink blanket. Her eyes weren't the traditional newborn dark blue; they were light, almost grey. They were his eyes, and they were looking right at him as the tiny lips turned up in a genuine little smile._

"_Uh-oh," Elizabeth had said, with a loving glance at her husband. "I think someone already has herself wrapped right around Daddy's heart even more than the last one did."_

_It was true; Rachel had shot straight to his soul and settled in from that moment. Now, to see her lying so still was utter torment, and he'd prayed so many times to let him trade places. He squeezed her hand and let the tears fall._

_Suddenly, he felt her hand shift in his, and he looked up. Two beautiful blue-grey eyes were looking at him. "Rachel?" he said, wiping tears away so as not to alarm her._

_Her brows drew together slightly as if in confusion. He stroked her cheek. "Rachel, honey, it's okay. The doctor says you're not going to be sick anymore."_

_She stared at him for a long moment, the same confused expression on her face. Then it changed; a flash of fear swept through those eyes, and she swallowed hard. "Daddy?" _

"_Yes, sweetheart, it's Daddy." _

_The fear spread across her face as her placed a hand to her right ear. She rubbed at it for a second, then tried again. "Daddy?"_

"_Rachel, what is it?" But somehow he already knew, and he reached for the button to page the nurses' station._

_Rachel rubbed both ears this time. "Daddy, why are you whispering? I can't hear your voice." A touch of panic was creeping into her words, along with the fact that it was louder than she'd usually speak._

_Myles knew he had to keep her calm until they could determine the extent of the damage. He grabbed a pad of paper Sarah had been drawing on earlier. Rachel could read a little. _

_**Daddy not know why you not hear. We ask the doctor, ok?** He held it out to her, and watched fondly as she ran her finger under each word._

_Then she looked up. "I… I can't hear me good, too, Daddy. I'm scared." Her breathing was starting to speed up as well. She reached up to plug her nose and blow, which worked sometimes when she had a cold. The oxygen tubes were in her way, though, and he had to take her hands to keep her from yanking them out. Tears were starting to run down her cheeks._

_He knew a fair bit of sign, between his years working with Sue, and also from Elizabeth's sister, and he knew the girls were more fluent in it than he was. DADDY STAY BESIDE RACHEL, he signed. DOCTOR HELP, OK? He moved up to sit next to her, and drew her into his arms as she started to sob. Heart breaking, he rocked her gently until the nurse arrived and paged the pediatrician.

* * *

:

* * *

_

"_I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Leland," the specialist said after examining Rachel for what seemed an eternity. "The meningitis left extensive damage to the hair cells in both of Rachel's ears, as well as to her cochlea." He pointed on a diagram to a small snail-shaped part of the ear behind the eardrum. "It's not reparable. And a cochlear implant won't help, because of the damage there."_

"_How extensive is 'extensive,' exactly?" Myles asked, a bit fed up with medical double-speak. "She's severely deaf? Profoundly? What are we talking about?"_

_The doctor looked at him in surprise. "You know the terminology?"_

"_I have a long-time co-worker who is profoundly deaf," he replied curtly, still waiting for an answer. "If I remember correctly, her decibel levels sit at about 110/120."_

"_Ah. Well, then, what I'm about to tell you will make more sense to you than it generally does to parents I've had to inform." The man was maddeningly calm. "Rachel's levels are currently at 75 decibels in her right ear, and 80 in her left. As the meningitis works its way out of her system, those levels could fluctuate slightly, but only slightly. And the loss will undoubtedly increase over the next few years."_

_Elizabeth gripped her husband's hand, whether seeking support or offering it Myles couldn't determine. "What do we do, then, to help her? We all already know some ASL, because my sister is severely deaf, and Rachel's very articulate for her age. Obviously, though, this will affect her further speech development, schooling…how can we best help her?"_

_Myles looked at her for a long moment; he hadn't expected to hear such an edge in her voice at all this. After all, she'd grown up with Connie, was fluent in ASL, understood much of the Deaf Culture… and then he realized that this was simply a mother overwhelmed by both the emotion of what had happened to her child, and the task they all had ahead of them. Being on the periphery of a culture didn't necessarily prepare you for instant immersion into it._

_He squeezed her hand, amazed at the calm in his own voice. "Sweetheart, it will be all right. We'll have lots of help. Let's take it a step at a time."

* * *

_

* * *

"_You mean Rachel's like Aunt Connie and Aunt Sue?" Sarah's voice betrayed very little of what she was feeling._

_Myles nodded and squeezed her hand. They'd decided it might be best for Sarah to hear the news one-on-one, so Elizabeth had gone in to be with Rachel. His oldest daughter's green eyes were wide, but he could tell the full impact hadn't set in yet. It hadn't with him, either; he knew he needed to go talk to someone, and soon. But his family's needs came first._

"_Yes, Sarah. She can still hear a little right now, but your regular voice will sound like a soft whisper to her. And her hearing will fade over the next few years, too. The fact that we already know some sign will help; we won't have to learn to communicate with Rachel all over again. But she's going to have a lot of changes to get used to."_

_The little girl looked at him directly. "You're not gonna make her just speak, are you? Like Gramma Dillingham did to Aunt Connie. Because that's just not fair."_

_He blinked, taken back at the vehemence in her voice. "Why would you think I'd do that, Sarah?"_

_Now that she'd said it, he could tell she wasn't sure she should have. "It's just... I asked Aunt Sue one time to tell me about when she first joined the FBI. She said... she was nice about it, though..." Now she looked down, unable to meet her father's eyes. "She said you weren't very nice to her."_

_Even though he'd apologized years before, and now had a very good, even close, relationship with Sue, it still shamed him clear down to the depths of his soul to be reminded. He folded his hands, resting his arms on his knees, and looked over at Sarah until she met his eyes. "She's right; I wasn't. In fact, knowing your Aunt Sue, she probably made it seem a lot better than it really was."_

"_Why, Daddy? Why didn't you like her?"_

_He sighed; he'd tried over the years to determine the exact cause himself, and all he could come up with was sheer prejudiced ignorance. "I guess I was like a lot of people, who think that just because someone can't hear, they can't do a lot of things. I thought your Uncle Jack was crazy for bringing someone in that we'd all have to adapt to, like making sure she could see us when we talked…" He trailed off. "Sarah, when I look back on it now, I feel ashamed. Sue is a wonderful lady, and it took me a long time to give her the chance she deserved."_

"_Oh." Sarah looked at him with a smile tugging at her lips. "I thought it was because she got you in trouble with Aunt Lucy."_

_His breath came out in a laugh, and Myles shook his head. "I've been in trouble with Lucy since the day I met her, in one fashion or another." Now he turned to his daughter and looked at her solemnly. "So do you understand about Rachel?"_

"_Yeah. It shouldn't be that hard. We already know how to sign, and stuff like that." _

"_But do you realize that she won't be able to read your lips nearly as well as Aunt Sue and Aunt Connie? That's something you have to learn to do. And you'll have to touch her if you want her attention, or stomp on the floor real hard." The magnitude of what they were facing was starting to overwhelm him as well._

"_Daddy, are you okay?"_

_He stroked her blonde hair. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm okay. Tell you what. Why don't I take you up to stay with Mom and Rachel? Rachel's pretty scared right now, and I bet you could cheer her up. Daddy has to go see someone for a little while."

* * *

_

* * *

_**Hoover Building**_

_Myles stopped outside the office and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves so he could think clearly. Then he tapped on the doorsill. After a moment, he heard "Come in, please."_

_He opened the door and petted the Golden Retriever; Levi's muzzle was liberally grey now, and he moved much slower than when Myles had first encountered him. "Good boy, Levi."_

_Sue Thomas Hudson stood up to give him a hug. "Myles! It's been too long. I keep telling Jack he keeps you all far too busy."_

"_He's obviously not listening," the Harvard grad smiled as she sat back down and motioned him to a chair. I-N-T-E-R-N-S KEEP YOU BUSY? he signed._

"_It's a good program," she responded. "We've gotten lots of positive feedback from every field office we've placed a surveillance specialist in. Most of the offices want to know how long it will be before we can send them at least one more."_

_Before Ted Garrett had retired, he'd called Sue into his office and asked her if she'd be interested in spearheading an internship program with the Bureau through Gallaudet University, for students trained in lip-reading as she was, as surveillance specialists. Sue had jumped at the chance, even though it meant leaving the team. _

_Not quite a year later, the "office romance" they'd all teased her and Jack about from practically day one had blossomed into a marriage. It hadn't been an easy journey for them; Jack had made a lot of adjustments, more than he'd ever thought about. That they had weathered it together for eight years so far was a tribute to the deep love they'd grown into._

"_Myles?"_

_He glanced up and signed SORRY. ME GOT LOST._

_Sue smiled. "I would imagine. Jack told me about Rachel; how's she doing?"_

_Myles leaned back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap, fighting the urge to look at the floor. "She's out of the woods. But the meningitis left its mark. That's what I wanted to talk with you about, if you have a little time."_

_Her smile faded. "Oh, no. It took—?"_

"_Her hearing, yes." _

_Sue immediately closed the files she'd been working on and set them aside, then moved over to sit in the chair next to him. "Myles, I'm so sorry. What exactly did the doctor tell you?"_

_He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing at his temples. After a moment, he dropped his hands and looked up at her. "They had an audiologist come in immediately; the meningitis destroyed most of her hair cells in both ears, and damaged her cochlea. He said that an implant won't work."_

"_I'm very sorry, Myles. I know this has to be hard on the family, especially you. What did the audiologist say her audiogram showed?"_

_He sighed again. "Her levels are sitting at 75 decibels in her right ear, and uh... 80 in her left." His eyes dropped just slightly. "Sorry," he said and signed, "I guess I'm still reeling a little."_

"_That's understandable. It's going to take some time before the full impact sets in. How's Liz doing?"_

"_She's all right, I guess. She was more stressed in the doctor's office than I thought she'd be. I suppose I thought that..." He raised a brow as something registered. "Why would you say that this would be especially hard on me?"_

_Sue smiled gently. "You've always seemed to have a harder time adjusting to situations that are a bit different than your normal routine. Or is that not why you came to talk to me?"_

_Now his eyes did drop, and he signed it. _THINK YOU THIS B/C HOW CONSIDER I YOU, RIGHT? SARAH, SAID SHE SAME BEFORE.

_Sue nodded and signed YES, before she began to speak. "Has the doctor spoken to you about counseling? If he hasn't, I think you should look into at least a support group."_

_He was quiet for several minutes; though his head was down, she could tell simply from the slump in his shoulders that more was wrong than just this overwhelming news and exhaustion. After another deep sigh, he looked up at her again, and his eyes were sad._

"_Sarah laid me out because she thought I'd insist on making Rachel speak exclusively, and now you're suggesting counseling. Have I really learned so little?"_

"_If it helps, Myles, I don't see you as the same person when I first walked into that bullpen. But I do think this is going to be hard on you. Not in the way of having to sign, to learn to get Rachel's attention; I think it's going to be hard for you to admit it to your family. You realize though, that with your acceptance, it will be easier for the others as well."_

"_But…" He looked confused. "My family has already all but adopted Connie; why would this be so different?"_

_Sue laid a hand on his arm. "Myles, your immediate family has accepted Connie. But what about Rachel's other grandparents? Aunts, uncles— people who are only around her a few times a year? You'll have to deal with her friends, their parents, your neighbors… a support group might be helpful."_

_His head was spinning; he hadn't considered the entire scope of this. He dropped his head into his hands and fought the wave of panic that was starting. "I didn't realize…"_

_She tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me?"_

_Myles looked up at her bleakly. "Sorry. I said I didn't realize… the scope of all this… Dear God…" She may not have heard his voice, but the fervency in his eyes said it all. "How can I help her, Sue? I want to give her every opportunity I can, but I don't want to shut her off from a community that she'll need. What do I do? Where do I start?"_

_Sue squeezed his arm gently. "You start by doing exactly what you're doing now— admitting that you can't do it alone. Then you let Rachel know that you love her. I'm sure she's very frightened right now." _

_He nodded. "She's terrified."_

"_You first need to let what comes naturally to her happen. Let her take the lead. If she wants to continue speaking, then encourage it, get her the help she'll need; if not, don't force it. Let her get involved with others locally that are deaf so she doesn't feel so out of place. Once you have a bearing at home, you need to stand firm and explain it to your family." Sue thought for a second. "She's in preschool, right?"_

_Myles sighed. "She was; I'm not sure what we'll do now."_

"_LeClerc is a preschool associated with Gallaudet; I'll get you the name of the administrator." She watched him battle with the enormity of the task ahead, and her heart ached for him. "And you know that Jack and I will be here for you and your family. It will help Rachel to have a bit of a familiar network. You can get help from Connie, from the school; there's plenty of support available. You just need to remember that she's still your daughter, still the same little girl you've known since the first time you held her in your arms. The only difference is that she cannot hear your voice. It doesn't mean she can't feel your love or rejection of her."_

"_I know. If I've learned nothing else from you in twelve years, I have learned that." He stood, and ran a hand through his hair. "I need to get back to the hospital. Rachel still has a few days' recovery time, and then we'll see where to go from there." He held out a hand to her. "Thank you. I feel like I at least have a solid footing, for now."_

_She stood and glanced at his hand. "If you've learned anything in twelve years, it ought to be that I don't do handshakes with good friends." She gave him a big hug. "I expect you to ask for help when you need it."_

_He returned the hug gratefully. "I will. Thank you." …

* * *

_

* * *

It hadn't been easy, for any of them; there had been obstacles he'd never even dreamed of as they began to bridge worlds. Sue and Jack, as well as Elizabeth's sister Connie, had been invaluable friends and supporters. Particularly when it came to unexpected potholes.

Rachel had known things might change among her hearing friends, but none of them had been really prepared for the flak they'd gotten from some in the _Deaf_ community. It hadn't started out that way.

LeClerc Preschool had been one of the very best things that happened to them in the early days of adjustment; the Gallaudet University service had allowed Rachel, and the whole family, to work at their own pace until she felt comfortable with the other students, whose hearing losses ranged from since birth to recent medical losses like her own. Events and conferences were frequent, and they were gently eased into some, joyfully tossed pell-mell into others.

Even Myles himself had found several very good friends in the Deaf community from those early days, friends he still stayed in touch with, or played golf with on occasion. It hadn't been easy, but it had been eye-opening and fulfilling beyond anything he'd ever dreamed.

Two years ago, Rachel had started at Chesterfield School for the Deaf. It was then that the realization came of just how difficult the gap could be to bridge. On her first day, she came home in tears…


	4. Chapter 4: The Path You Choose

**Chapter 4: _The Path You Choose_**

**

* * *

Author's note: **

I hadn't thought to explain this in the story - "deaf" is not a static term. There are endless variations, since a hearing loss tends to combine both decibel level (loudness) frequency (pitch; hi/lo). You'll see here that Rachel's loss is high-frequency along with her decibel loss; therefore, she can still make out her father's deep voice even two years after her meningitis...

Because she was not born deaf, she also understands the words he is saying. Someone deafened at birth or before the age of two, even with comparable decibel and frequency levels as Rachel, likely would not understand the sounds they could hear as words.

When we return to the present, two more years have passed, and her decibel levels have faded to where even his voice is out of her range.

* * *

_Myles walked into the kitchen, tossing his suit coat over one of the stools and sliding his arms around Elizabeth, snatching a chocolate-chip cookie from the cooling rack in the process._

"_You spoil your dinner, and you're grounded," she smiled as he took a bite._

_He grinned and turned her around to face him, offering her a bite of the cookie as well. "But I'm on such good terms with 'Mom.' How could she possibly ground me?"_

"_Don't push your luck." She laughed softly and kissed the chocolate from his lips, then sighed as she leaned against his shoulder._

"_How was Rachel's first day at Chesterfield?"_

_His wife looked up at him, her green eyes troubled. "I don't know, Myles. When I went to pick her up, she signed HELLO, but that's all I've been able to get out of her. Not a word, not a sign, nothing. She went straight up to her room when we got home, and even the aroma of cookies hasn't been enough to coax her down."_

_His brows went up. "If Rachel's passing up cookies, it must be serious. I'll go talk to her."_

"_Thank you, love. Dinner will be ready in about a half-hour."_

"_Okay." He grabbed his suit coat and took it upstairs to his closet, then crossed the hallway to the room the girls shared._

_Sarah was doing her homework, the radio on low as she plowed through her math. She turned as Myles tapped on the door, and shook her head as he raised his brows and nodded toward Rachel, who was curled up on the bottom bunk of their beds. Sarah held up an open "5" hand and drew it down from her eyes to her chin. SHE CRY._

_O-K, he replied. HELP MOM MINUTES FEW. RACHEL ME TALK._

_His oldest nodded, and went downstairs. Myles sat down on the side of the bed, thankful that they'd decided on the twin/full bunk combination from the start. It made for fewer impact headaches._

_He laid a hand on his six-year-old daughter's shoulder and squeezed gently. Rachel, without even looking at him, sat up and flung herself into his arms, sobbing. He held her tightly, stroking her dark hair and letting her pour out whatever hurt she was feeling. After a while, she calmed and simply clung to him._

_When he finally felt her relax, he set her back on his lap and tipped her chin up. WHAT? he signed one-handed. TELL ME PLEASE._

_Her hands flew. NEW SCHOOL GO ME NOT WANT._

_WHY? He was genuinely puzzled; Rachel had loved LeClerc. It had been a godsend for all of them, providing not only the adjustment period she'd needed, but also a wonderful support group for the students' families. Which reminded him— he was slated for the school's "Dad's Golf Tournament" in two weeks. Even though Rachel had graduated, they had insisted Myles join them one last year. Privately, he knew it was so Ron Masters could whistle while Myles was teeing up, knowing full well it wouldn't do any good for the Harvard grad to retaliate, since Ron was Deaf. _

_Myles shook his head slightly and pulled out of his thoughts. Chesterfield School for the Deaf was supposed to have the same reputation for involving the families as much as they wished to be involved._

_They'd considered mainstreaming Rachel, but after looking around at the atrocious quality of the special needs programs, they'd decided on a combination of residential school and a speech tutor. Rachel had decided on her own that she still wanted to speak, as well as learn to lip-read like her aunts. Secretly, Myles had been praying she'd make those decisions; it would help her immensely out in the hearing world. He'd seen too many people, especially since they'd gotten involved in the community, who were non-oral and had such a hard time. But he'd also decided that if she chose the silent path, he'd support her any way he could._

_Watching her now, he couldn't fathom what had upset her so deeply. She was looking down, and he tipped her chin up again. NEW SCHOOL GO YOU NOT WANT WHY?_

_THEY SAY I FAKE DEAF! TALK TOO GOOD TO BE DEAF! PARENTS HEAR, SISTER HEAR, ME NOT TRUE DEAF! Her fingers were almost a blur, and tears were starting down her cheeks again. THEY SAY I SHOULD PUBLIC SCHOOL GO! NOT HERE! NOT BELONG! She buried her head against his shoulder again._

_His heart dropped; they'd dealt so many times with the "you're different" attitude among her friends in the neighborhood. He'd never expected it to happen from the other direction. But, at the same time, he'd heard Sue talk about similar situations. It wasn't easy to walk between worlds; it seemed you were never truly a part of either, and excluded in one way or another from both. Though he had no first-hand experience at it, he was getting a fair education watching his daughter. And it broke his heart._

_He shifted her slightly so his mouth was right next to her right ear; the audiologist had told them that she'd be able to hear his deep voice longer than either Elizabeth's or Sarah's. Speaking a bit louder than he would have with his older daughter, he said, "Rachel, honey, can you understand what I'm saying?"_

_She nodded, her face still hidden as she sobbed. _

"_Ok." He hugged her tightly. "Princess, you belong. Do you remember that Aunt Sue told you there were some Deaf people who thought she should just sign and not speak? And there were hearing people who thought she should just speak and not sign?"_

_YES. The tremor in her hand tore at him, but she had quieted a little._

_Myles stroked her dark hair. "She chose to do both, and you told me you wanted to make the same choice. It's not going to be easy. And there will be people on both sides who will say you don't belong. But you do, sweetheart. You belong wherever you decide you want to." Now he took her shoulders and gently pushed her back enough to look at him, and signed as he spoke. "If you want to go to public school, that's fine, but I think you'd be happier at Chesterfield. It will be much easier for you there."_

_She shook her head. ME STAY HOME, she replied silently. DADDY TEACH. MOMMY TEACH._

Good heavens, what did they say to her? _Rachel was a born student; she loved to learn, whether it was writing her name, being able to find Copenhagen on the globe, or watching the storytellers at the Deaf Center in town. Before the meningitis, she'd even pestered him to teach her "hello" and "Thank you" in French, and Russian, and Mandarin Chinese. She loved to interact with people; wanting to stay home told him this had hurt her deeply._

_Then he thought of something. "Rachel," he signed as he spoke, "do you remember the lady we met at your graduation from LeClerc? The older lady I told you I had met when we worked on a case?"_

_Her little brows scrunched together as she thought. She held up an open "5" hand, her thumb pointed at her chin, and bounced it forward and down twice. GRANDMA H?_

_He nodded, smiling. Sue had brought Helga with her, and the girls had taken instantly to their "new gramma." Helga, in return, seemed to light up as the two Leland girls peppered her with questions and begged for stories and generally made pests of themselves. They'd made it a point since then to visit Helga every Saturday afternoon._

_Rachel looked at him as if he were daft. YES, she signed, an exasperated sigh escaping. I REMEMBER I. DADDY SILLY._

_He laughed; teasing her, and being teased in return, was the first step to getting through her hurt. "Do you remember," he said and signed,"the time we went to see her, and she was talking to a man who had just come to the Senior Center for the first time? And the man was giving Helga's friend Ellen a hard time because she was speaking?"_

_Rachel nodded. YES._

"_Do you remember what Grandma H told us later?"_

_Now the little blue-grey eyes widened a bit, and she spoke for the first time since he'd walked in the room. "Gramma H said that it didn't matter if Ellen signed or spoke or sent smoke signals—" She giggled. "It wasn't important. What was important was that Ellen had a good heart, and she was a good friend. And Ellen said that Gramma H was her friend, too, even when others didn't want to be her friend because she spoke."_

"_Not everyone you meet will understand, Rachel," Myles said and signed. "In fact, it may be that most of the people you meet, hearing or Deaf, will think you should be someone other than you are. But you decide who you want to be, and don't let anyone tell you that you can't." His eyes dropped for a moment as he realized the impact of what he was saying. His voice caught. "Not anyone."_

_A warm hand on his cheek made him look back up, and he saw her smile. Her hands moved. IF DADDY LEARN PAH, EVERYONE HOPE. AUNT SUE SAY TRUE._

_He wrinkled his nose at her and laughed. SAD DADDY TRUE, he replied. DINNER READY MOM SAY. BEFORE COOKIE YOU MISS._

_She held up her hand and let him lead her out of the room, her trust and love for him strengthening his resolve to let her walk her own path, but to be beside her every step of the way…

* * *

:_

* * *

Warm lips on his neck brought him out of his thoughts, and he realized that the house was dark. Elizabeth had apparently just finished locking up for the night.

"The girls asleep?" he asked softly.

"Mmmhmm…" she replied, her fingers wandering up his back.

He raised a brow at her. "Are you attempting to _seduce_, me, Dr. Dillingham? If so, I should warn you that I'm married."

She looked up at him and smiled. "So am I. We just won't tell them."

"Hmm… a sound plan." He swept her off her feet, making her gasp, and started up the stairs. "Although, if my wife were to find out, she might never make her lasagna for me again, and I don't think I could handle that."

Elizabeth just stared at him for a moment, not sure she'd heard him correctly. Then, a wicked gleam lit her green eyes, and she put her arms around his neck. "I think maybe I can beat the lasagna," she murmured, and then whispered in his ear.

His knees just about buckled at her suggestion, so it was a good thing they'd reached the top of the stairs. She laughed softly and stepped away from him, pausing at the door to their bedroom to turn and crook her finger at him. Shaking his head slightly to clear it, Myles smiled and followed her down the hall.

* * *

PAH - a distinctly Deaf Culture word... in this context, it translates roughly to "finally"... the true and complete definition is shared by Deaf culture only to those who have made it a point to really seek to learn... 


	5. Chapter 5: Now and Always

**Chapter 5: Now and Always

* * *

**

The house was quiet now; the only sound was that of two hearts wound up in each other, slowing gradually as the world came back. Her dark hair cascaded around him as she leaned her forehead against his chest and sighed out, "Sweet merciful heaven, I love you."

A deep chuckle escaped as he shifted to his side and pulled her into his arms. "My thoughts exactly. It's rather nice to know that, even after thirteen years of marriage, we can still reduce each other to corny romance-novel lines."

Elizabeth laughed as well, then laid her hand against his cheek. "Are you all right, love? You've been very quiet today."

He sighed. "Just a lot of memories. Sarah's birth, Rachel's illness and all that's come with it… other things I'd just as soon not remember at all. Must be this new job, or the fact that I've really been with the Bureau for twenty-five years. It doesn't seem like that long."

"I know," she replied softly. "Seems like only yesterday I walked into the kitchen from a church meeting and found you, still in your best suit, fresh from a late briefing at the White House, covered in strained peaches you were trying to feed Sarah, and laughing about it."

"I forget; did that suit ever recover?" His quip earned him a poke in the ribs, and he chuckled. "Thirteen years… and I love you still more today. I guess it's just the thought of moving on to something… different. All I've ever known is the job I'm doing now; it's been—"

"A fervent passion for you. It still can be." She pushed her pillow up against the headboard and sat up, pulling the sheets around her and draping her arms over her bent knees. "In the years we've been married, I've met a lot of agents, and very few of them _need_ to do this job the way you do. You have a chance now to instill that kind of passion, that kind of loyalty, in a whole new generation of agents. You've been given that chance because Dimitrius knows that you're the best person to do it."

"I guess," he sighed, capturing her hand and bringing it to his lips.

Elizabeth gazed at him quietly for a long moment. "Go see him."

Myles blinked. "D?"

The psychologist shook her head. "No. You know very well who I'm talking about. Something's not finished between you, and I think that's what has you concerned about this new job. So go see him tomorrow and deal with it once and for all."

He stared at her for several seconds; then he reached up and laid his hand against her cheek, smiling faintly. "Being married to a shrink does have its advantages." Tangling his fingers in her dark hair, he drew her down to kiss her. "Thank you."

She smiled against his lips and poked him gently in the stomach. "Thank me after you actually _do_ it, love." She moved down to snuggle against him, her head on his chest, watching the moonlight that had broken through the clouds and was streaming in their window. "I love you, Myles."

"I love you, too, sweetheart." The words faded as he drifted to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Brothers in Arms

**Chapter 6: Brothers in Arms**

**

* * *

Author's note:** Much thanks to Mark Knopfler (Dire Straits) for an incredible song...**

* * *

**

_Chapel, Hoover Building_

_Monday, October 25, 2018_

_4:00 pm_

A slow day— paperwork, an interview here and there, the little routine stuff that was good when you didn't mind letting your thoughts wander. It wasn't welcome today, though, and his thoughts had finally driven him down to the chapel.

_How can the sun shine in here all afternoon, and yet I can't get warm?_ he thought as he sat down on the marble bench in the center of the small room. The chill crept across his shoulders, as it did every time in the past ten years he'd come down here to stare at the plaques on the wall. He knew too many of the faces personally, but only one refused to stay behind when he walked out of this room and back into his life…

* * *

_**Ten years earlier…(October 2009)**_

_These mist-covered mountains_

_Are a home now for me,_

_But my home is in the lowlands_

_And always will be…_

_The fog dipped and swirled like a prima ballerina, shrouding the trees in whiteness and shadow. Every movement of foliage and fog brought their senses alert, and after two full days of it they were exhausted._

_Myles longed for the quiet warmth of the fireplace and his wife's arms at home. Sarah was just a year old, and taking her first steps; he wanted to be there to catch her. Instead, the lot of them were traipsing through the Smoky Mountains, tracking a gang of bank robbers who thought they were the next stars of_ Survivor.

_Beside him, he knew Bobby was thinking along the same lines; the Aussie's first anniversary with Darcy was only a few weeks away, and they were expecting their first child as well. The team had changed a bit; no longer was it a group of people who had only each other to worry about. Now they all had families waiting at home for them, all except Rhodes, who had replaced Sue when the Gallaudet intern project had come up. Brian was good; with his hearing aids, he could pass the Bureau's requirements for Special Agent, and he'd also honed his lip-reading with Sue. It wasn't the same, but it was enough._

_Now the "youngster," as they'd taken to calling him from day one, slipped along behind and off to Bobby's left; Myles flanked him on the right. Jack and Tara were about ten paces back, flanked left and right, watching their backs. Bobby studied the terrain ahead of them, watching for any signs of life that had been through earlier._

_They'd been doing this for two solid days; camping in the Smoky Mountains might be a wonderful experience in August, but in late October it was chilly and damp. Add in the tension of not being able to see ten feet in front of you with a gang of armed suspects hiding somewhere in the fog, and it definitely didn't rate up there with your "top ten vacation spots."_

"_Bingo." Bobby's Aussie drawl broke the silence just enough to get their attention; four heads snapped around immediately._

"_What have you got, Bobby?" Jack asked as he closed the gap between them and crouched next to the tall agent._

"_Footprint," the Aussie replied, pointing to a leaf-strewn impression on the ground. "And the ground here has enough foliage dropping that it's got to be fresh. No leaves on top of the impression, just pressed into it."_

"_All right. Let's see if we can find a few more, preferably all headed in a particular direction." Jack went back to his position, and Bobby worked ahead a few paces. _

_Brian waved at Myles, then signed. BEHIND US S-W-A-T? He added a questioning look to his comment. _

_NOT UNTILWEHAVE ABSOLUTE VIEW, Myles replied.CAN'TFLYF-O-GMUCH TOO(ALSO)THICKANDMANYPEOPLEHERE DNOT WANT. ACCIDENT SOMEONECHANCESHOTMUCH GREAT.WEFIND THEM. S-W-A-TBACKUPTHEM COME, WE STAY. He was amazed and a bit proud that he'd managed that much without unnecessary fingerspelling; it was coming slowly, but his ASL was improving. _

_WHILE WE WAIT FOR THEM, OUR BUTT FREEZE. Brian grinned, pointing to his backside rather than introducing the sign for the cruder form of the word to the Harvard grad. Then he shrugged. WE SAVE WORLD, PRICE WE PAY. _

_Myles chuckled silently, then focused his attention again as Bobby had held up a hand to stop them all, and he turned noiselessly to sign MAN THERE 100 FEET. "There" was at the 11 o'clock position, just off to this left._

_ONE ONLY? Jack's dark brows went up in question as he signed it._

_Bobby cocked his head to listen intently; no one so much as breathed in that long moment. He shook his head, tapping his index and middle fingers twice on his thumb. NO. Then he shrugged. WHERE NOT KNOW._

_20 FEET, Jack ordered, pointing in the same direction Bobby had. STAY THERE._

_They nodded, and worked their way forward, grateful that the fog had at least dampened the leaves enough that they could move soundlessly. Myles couldn't help but think, as he did on occasion, that if people could just learn to get along and quit wanting everybody else's stuff, his life would be a lot easier…_

_Someday you'll return to_

_Your valleys and your farms_

_And you'll no longer burn to_

_Be brothers in arms…_

_Then again, his life would be considerably less interesting as well—

* * *

:

* * *

_

_Through these fields of destruction,_

_Baptisms of fire;_

_I've witnessed your suffering_

_As the battle raged higher…_

_The roar of gunfire brought him out of his thoughts and flat on his stomach fast._ Oh, dear God… _He wasn't sure who voiced it first, or if anyone truly did; in that split-second he could hear their thoughts as clearly as his own._

_Crossfire_—_ a deadly-sounding word by itself, but in living color it was enough to stop your heart without getting hit. Bark splintered off the trees all around them, and sparks glinted off the few small rocks that offered no cover whatsoever._

_A sound off to his left made him look, and he saw Brian clutch at his right ankle. The young man's face paled beneath his auburn hair, but he waved Myles off with his eyes. _

_ME O-K, he signed, instinctively ducking as another volley sounded. CATCH R-I-C-O-C-H-E-T. ONLY G-R-A-Z-E._

_Myles nodded and refocused on trying to target where exactly the shots were coming from._

"_It's a bloody ambush!" Bobby shouted. "They were waiting for us!"_

_Jack shushed him with a wave and motioned them all back to his position behind a fallen tree. "How many and where?" he gasped as he checked the clip in his 9mm. The rest of the team followed suit._

"_At least six," the tall Aussie replied. "And they're spread out almost completely around us." He dropped a small rock in front of them and pointed around it. "Eleven, one o'clock, three and nine, four and eight. We've got a single clear alley here, because of these windfalls, but it won't take much for them to cut us off completely. They were waiting for us, Jack. Led us right up to this spot, so they could play 'shoot the fish in the barrel'."_

"_Yeah, well, we'll take time to feel stupid later." Jack turned to Tara, whom they'd requested for this assignment because of her communications skills, which had been honed even sharper when she'd become a supervisor for Information Technology shortly after she and Sam had married. "How far back is SWAT?"_

_She had her radio out, along with the GPS tracker she'd been carrying. "They're at the spot we camped last night. About three miles back." Her eyes were very wide as she looked up. "ETA minimum's an hour or more."_

"_Call them anyway, Tara. Get them moving toward us. It's something."_

"_They've got small arms, a shotgun or two, and I heard at least one semi-automatic," Myles added. He pulled the first-aid pack out of his pocket and tossed it to Brian. _

"_The infrared sights aren't going to help much," Bobby said. "They're fine for the fog, but as dense as this foliage is, we're not going to be able to keep track of all of them. We may as well wave a blasted flag and yell 'Here we are,' for all the good it'll do."_

"_Aussie," Brian quipped as he finished taping the gauze to his ankle, "you're so good for morale."_

"_Well, we can't stay here." Jack brought the conversation back around. "Any suggestions?"

* * *

:

* * *

_

_Five minutes later, Myles was shaking his head vigorously. "It's suicide. And as many times as I've plotted your demise, this was never in the mix."_

"_He's right, Bobby," Jack added. "It's flat-out nuts."_

"_No, Jack," the Harvard grad replied solemnly. "I'm not saying that. It's a sound plan, just not for getting all of us out of here in one piece. If the odds weren't so damn slim, I'd be all for it."_

"_Will you two listen to yourselves?" Bobby Manning spread his hands in exasperation. "It's the only chance we have of taking these drongos down without becoming the 'Lost Unit.' Besides, when have you ever known me to take unnecessary risks?" At the looks he got from all sides, he raised a hand. "Never mind. Look, I can move faster by myself than if I have to worry about any of you. I'll draw their fire, and you all can get back around behind them. It's the only way out."_

_Tara was deathly quiet; the only reaction from her was ever-widening eyes. Brian kept looking from Bobby to Jack to Myles and around again._

_Jack Hudson sighed heavily, hating again this aspect of being the unit leader; putting his friends' lives on the line for the good of the mission. He gazed for a long moment at the man who had been his best friend for well over a decade. "Crash, if you go and get yourself killed…"_

"_Will you relax?" Bobby retorted with a grin. "I know what I'm doing. Ten years of sneaking out past Randy has rendered me absolutely silent. You all just have to swear you will never tell Darcy about this."_

"_And send her into premature labor?" Tara quipped. "Not a chance."_

"_That's better." He checked his sidearm again, and then triple-checked it. "All right. I'll give you blokes—" he grinned at Tara— "and sheila two minutes to get into position. Then I'm going right up the middle of the creek."_

_Myles grimaced. "Just make sure you don't lose your paddle."

* * *

:

* * *

_

This is pure insanity…but then, when did Koala Boy ever take the sane path anywhere? _Myles slipped through the undergrowth, praying for the fog to stay as heavy and wet as it was. Visibility was shot to Hades and back, but the damp made silent movement possible. And silent was imperative right now. His teammate's life could well depend upon it._

_They didn't even dare use the radios; it was so silent in the woods that even a voice in the earpiece could give them away. So they were spread out, blind and deaf, waiting for one of their own to "stand up and wave a blasted flag." It gave Myles a sense of foreboding that felt a great deal like Brian's "Campfire Hash" wreaking havoc on his stomach._

_Thirty feet to his left, he could barely make out Tara's form as she knelt down behind a maple tree, her firearm drawn and ready. It amazed him still, the tremendous progress she'd made in her field work; for a lady who'd remarked to Sue once that she avoided "all possibility of collision that doesn't involve airbags," she was a damn good agent to have at your back. Most perpetrators underestimated her entirely, and it had been many an unfortunate criminal's last look at freedom to stare into the dark eyes behind the 9mm._

_Myles drew in a deep silent breath and waited, his gun trained squarely on the Daniel-Boone-wannabe fifteen feet in front of him. He'd been counting seconds in his head;_ one hundred ten, one hundred eleven, one twelve… _The incessant waiting, when seconds dragged by in hours, was always the worst part. When it was a countdown to a disaster waiting to happen, it was ten times worse. But it was part of the job, and you learned to live with it._

One seventeen… one eighteen… one nineteen… _He closed the distance to his target, praying all his teammates were doing the same. The man in front of him had already spotted Bobby, and was taking aim in his shotgun sight. A grimy finger twitched on the trigger, and Myles knew he'd have to be very careful or the man would fire anyway in surprise._

_Two feet… ten inches… his .45 was trained on the man's neck now, and he was ready to grab the barrel of the gun and pull it upward, away from his teammate. Myles leaned forward just enough for cold steel to meet warm flesh. "That's quite enough," he murmured, swinging the gun out of sight on the Aussie. "Hands on your head, if you please. Very quietly." He cuffed the man and hauled him silently to his feet, seeing in his peripheral vision that Tara was doing the same to her target._ Two down…

_Bobby was halfway up the "alley" now, belly-crawling through the wet leaves. Tara left her capture with Myles, then circled around toward the next one. _

_Suddenly, a blood-curdling yell broke the silence as two of the criminals popped out from behind large trees not twenty feet from the tall Aussie. A deafening roar sounded, and over it a single anguished cry was heard:_

"_BOBBY!"

* * *

:

* * *

_

_And though they did hurt me so bad_

_In the fear and alarm_

_You did not desert me_

_My brothers in arms_

_Myles took aim and dropped one of the shooters immediately; unfortunately, Brian's shot at the second one missed, and the man fired again. Jack tore out of the cover and shot him on the run, dropping at his friend's side before the report of his gun faded._

"_Crash!" _

_Tara started to follow Jack, but Myles stopped her. "Secure the area first." The words about killed him, but he knew his unit leader was in no shape to stay focused. That left the job to him._

_He saw her eyes fill with tears, even at a distance, but she nodded and joined Brian in rounding up their captives. Then, as SWAT appeared from the foliage, they left the security to the new people and gathered around their fallen comrade._

_Bobby was conscious, but there was no hiding the blood pouring from four wounds: his right leg, left shoulder, and two gaping holes in his abdomen where the bullets had angled past the Kevlar. _

"_Anyone says… I told you so," he quipped painfully, "And I'll pop 'em one."_

_Jack started to answer, but it caught in his throat. He was applying pressure to the leg wound, his eyes down, but Myles could see him shaking. They all knew time was of the essence._

_Tara was already on the radio. "Base, this is SAM 3-1; we have an operator down. Repeat, we have an operator down, and need immediate med-flight." Her voice broke; although she hadn't worked with them for nearly a year, they'd stayed close, because of her "in-law status" to Myles. He knew she'd always looked to Bobby as a bit of a "big brother," and the Aussie took it to heart, teasing her mercilessly and making sure she knew her back was always watched whether she wanted it or not._

_There was silence on the radio for a long moment. Tara tapped the receiver sharply. "Base, do you read?"_

_It was Dimitrius' voice that came back to them, slowly. Apparently he'd come up to see how they were doing. "SAM 3-1, negative on med-flight because of the dense fog." They could hear the pain in his voice as well. "Tara… who?"_

_She couldn't stop the break in her voice. "D… it's Bobby. Isn't there…?"_

_A pause. "Only if you can get him back to the clearing where you camped last night. The electronic flares you juried up for this trip might work – the chopper would have to land on instruments." The heavy tone of his voice told them D knew exactly how likely it was – they wouldn't have requested the med-flight unless it was absolutely necessary._

"_That's three miles!" Brian whispered. "There's no way…"_

"_Tara…" Bobby's voice made them all turn. "Give me that contraption…" She handed it to him, and he brought it to his lips. "Hey, D."_

"_What'd you go and do this time, Manning?" The older man's voice obviously was straining. "Try to save the world single-handed again?"_

"_Nah, just these drongos. Hey, don't risk the chopper, ok?" Heads turned, and Jack drew in a sharp breath. "Just tell these guys to get their tails back someplace warm."_

"_Not on your life, Crash." _

"_No way."_

"_Since when do you get to hog all the scenery?"_

_The comments came from Jack, Tara, and Brian simultaneously. Myles looked at his friend and shrugged. "You seem to be outvoted, Koala Boy. We're staying right here with you, chopper or no chopper." He leaned toward the radio. "Did you catch all that, D?"_

"_Roger that." A bit of pride in them sneaked through his voice. "Take care of him, will you? I'll get that chopper in the air as soon as I can. If you can't move him, send SWAT back to the clearing and have them set up the electronic flares. We'll come to you, if we can."

* * *

:

* * *

_

_There's so many different worlds_

_So many different suns_

_And we have just one world_

_But we live in different ones…_

"_Funny…"_

_Myles looked up to see Bobby staring at the trees above them. "What's funny?" he asked._

_They were alone at the moment; Brian had volunteered to hike back with SWAT, who were taking the perps back to the base camp, and retrieve their supplies; Jack and Tara were hunting for dry wood to get a fire going. _

"_Just perspective, I guess." The Aussie groaned as he shifted to get comfortable. They'd managed to stop the bleeding in his leg and shoulder mostly, thanks to the Velcro straps on several Kevlar vests. But there was nothing they could do for the abdominal wounds, except keep him still and pray for the fog to lift._

"_I mean, here it is, the middle of October; most folks are celebrating the Braves' victory over the Yanks, and fighting with their kids over Halloween costumes. And here we sit, in the middle of a fog bank in the Smokies…"_

Knowing a friend is about to die. _He didn't voice it, but Myles knew; even if by some miracle the fog lifted this very second, Bobby's chances of surviving even to the hospital doors were slim at best. "Does make one wonder if it's worth it sometimes, doesn't it?"_

"_Aww, come on, Myles." Faint it might be, but the Aussie's voice held a touch of the old banter. "Can't think of a more worthwhile cause than saving the free world – even if it means going out in a blaze of glory." Then he grinned. "Not exactly how I'd planned it. Better to go home in a blaze of bragging rights."_

_The Harvard grad couldn't help but return the grin. "Always have to have the last shot, don't you?"_

"_Too right." Then the blue eyes went solemn. "Hey, Myles… do me a favor?"_

_A blond brow went up in surprise, but he had only one answer. "Anything, Crash."_

_Bobby smiled at the nickname; it was the first time Myles had ever used it. "Take care of Darce for me? I mean, not just you… the team… all you guys. She's gonna have a hard time. I mean…" He sighed. "I hate to miss seeing the little bloke or sheila, y'know? All that time it too the Maker to knock me over the head, drag me to that altar, and now I gotta pass 'em on the way by. Doesn't seem fair…"_

"_What happened to that blaze of glory? Sounds to me like it's getting doused in regrets." Tara moved to join them, taking Bobby's hand. "Don't you worry; we'll take care of Darcy. And hey, who knows? You might get to pass out a little fatherly advice on the 'way by.'" Her voice broke at that, and she started to pull away. "I'm sorry—"_

"_S'ok, kiddo," he replied, brushing a tear from her cheek. "Good advice, that." He looked from Myles to Tara, then to Jack, who was clearing a space for a fire, and Brian, who had made remarkably good time and was just coming back through the trees. "Quite the bunch, us. Mr. Blueblood, here, Prince Jack, Cyber-Goddess and the Youngster… and one Aussie rebel."_

_Brian's voice lifted softly at that, a clear tenor that belied the grey sky and the dense landscape. "There's so many different worlds/ So many different suns/ And we have just one world/ But we live in different ones…"_

"_Incredibly appropriate," Myles said softly. "What's the song?"_

"_Tune older than me," the young man quipped, "but worth the search. Group from back in the early 80s – Dire Straits. Song's called 'Brothers in Arms.' It started running through my head as I was walking back. I was amazed at how well it went with our— I mean, everything that's— I mean…" He trailed off._

_Bobby nodded, and looked over at Jack. "It was our theme song during Quantico; the other blokes thought we were bonkers, using such a depressing-sounding song. But it… it's what we do, and it's where we come from. I haven't heard it in years." Jack looked up at that, startled, and something unspoken passed between the men. Bobby turned back to Brian. "Let's hear it."_

"_I—" The young man glanced around. Then his eyes landed on Myles, pleading a bit. ME CAN'T, he signed tightly against his chest._

_YOU CAN YES, Myles replied. IMPORTANT._

"_Are you two talking about me?" Bobby quipped. "You know I never got the hang of reading that."_

_Brian couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, Aussie, and watching you sign is more painful than trying to interpret your slang." He took a breath. "You want a song, you got it."_

_The fire was glowing now, adding a warmth to the otherwise bleak scenery. Brian's voice lifted again, and the words wrapped around them all:_

"_These mist-covered mountains are a home now for me,_

_But my home is in the lowlands, and always will be._

_Someday you'll return to your valleys and your farms,_

_And you'll no longer burn to be brothers in arms._

_Through these fields of destruction, baptisms of fire;_

_I've witnessed your suffering as the battle raged higher._

_And though they did hurt me so bad, in the fear and alarm_

_You did not desert me, my brothers in arms._

_There's so many different worlds, so many different suns._

_And we have just one world, but we live in different ones…"_

_He stopped, his eyes bleak. "I… I don't remember the rest of it. I'm sorry."_

"_Just as well," Bobby responded quietly. "We haven't played out that part just yet."

* * *

:_

* * *

_Now the sun's gone to hell,_

_And the moon's riding high;_

_Let me bid you farewell_

_Every man has to die…_

The sun's gone to hell…_ The song had come back to him as well. Funny, he'd never thought of that phrase as describing a sunset, but that was exactly what was happening around them. The fog was lifting slightly, enough that the glow of the descending sun had bathed everything in a wash of red… fitting, at the moment…_

_Myles watched silently as Jack Hudson gripped his best friend's left hand and called his name. "Bobby… Bobby!"_

_The Aussie's eyes opened faintly. "No need to yell… Sparky," he murmured. "I haven't gone… anywhere… just yet."_

"_I just got off the radio with D. The chopper landed at the clearing, and the medics are on their way. You put that stubborn streak of yours in high gear and hold on." He couldn't hide the tremor in his voice._

"_Hey, Jack, look…" Bobby pointed upward into the fading light. "Full moon riding high.. Woah…"_

_The fog lifted suddenly, as if swept away by an unseen hand, and a jeweled tapestry of stars spread out above them. Myles felt Tara touch his arm, and he looked down into dark eyes filled with tears. Then they both turned to their friend, who was staring into the heavens, a low whistle escaping his lips._

"_That's some sendoff… for little ol' me." He quirked a smile at his teammates. "Guess someone figured I might get lost on the way home."_

"_Dammit, Crash…" Jack wasn't even trying to hide his own wet face; he clasped Bobby by the forearm, and held on tight. "You're gonna drive St. Peter to drink."_

_Bobby chuckled softly. "Always an adventure, Sparky; you know that." Then he turned to Brian. "Bloody brilliant agent you are, mate, for an ankle-biter. Keep an eye on the old-timers, eh?"_

_Brian could only nod. GOOD TEACHER YOU, he signed slowly. THANK YOU._

_WELCOME, the Aussie signed in return. His color was draining, and he seemed to be fighting for breath slightly. "Tara, love," he said, reaching for her hand, "you behave yourself. I don't want to have to come rescue Sam…"_

_She smiled, squeezing his hand. "I will if you will."_

"_Always spoiling my fun," he teased, and turned to the man he'd shared desk space with for nearly eleven years. "Myles…"_

"_Not necessary," the blond agent replied. "One who fought at my side during the overthrow of Randy the Ridiculous has nothing to add. It's all been said."_

_The Aussie nodded. "Maybe so, but I'm gonna say it anyway. For all our differences, you're as square a mate as I've ever had." He held out his hand, which Myles clasped forearm-to-forearm, as knights of old. "Keep the flame bright, eh?"_

"_Bright as those stars calling you, my friend." It was the most open he'd ever been with his colleague, and it felt right. "You have my word."_

_Bobby released Myles' arm, and brought his hand to Jack's shoulder, coughing slightly before squeezing it. "Sparky, you've been a brother, and a mate, and a swift kick in the rear when I needed it. Can't ask for much more than that in a lifetime."_

_Jack's mouth opened, but no words came. A single, simple sign was all he could manage: both "x" hands, the index fingers linked right-over-left, then reversed left-over-right. FRIEND. Then he drew his hand into a fist and placed it over his heart; not even a sign, just a gesture that spoke his soul._

"_Tell D…" Bobby's breath was coming shallower now. "…couldn't let the team down…" Blue eyes drifted through his teammates. "Give Sue and Liz hugs from me… tell Sam… I was practicing to finally… make a respectable showing at Mario-Kart…"_

_They watched, helpless, as one of their own took flight. "Tell Darce… love her... always…" His breathing hitched once, then faded like the evening breeze._

_When the medics arrived five minutes later, they found four agents, heads bowed, keeping vigil over the fifth, whose sacrifice would live on forever in their hearts, and stir their resolve to fight their battle until mankind no longer waged war on itself…_

_But it's written in the starlight,_

_And every line on your palm:_

_We're fools to make war_

_On our brothers in arms…_

* * *

****

"Wondered if this was where you'd disappeared to." Jack Hudson laid a hand on Myles' shoulder.

"I can't get the song out of my head." The Harvard grad's voice was quiet.

"The one Brian sang up there?"

"No. Though that one came back as well." He stood and walked over to the plaque on the wall, where Bobby Manning's signature grin flashed back at him. "The one I sang at his funeral. I can't shake it."

Jack looked thoughtful. "Maybe he needs to hear it again. Heaven knows, it fit him." He turned to head for the door, then stopped. "Or maybe he thinks _you _need to hear it again. I remember what he said to you in those last moments. Teaching won't change the promise you made. You can still keep the flame bright, even if you're not the one holding the torch."

Myles stared after his unit leader as the shorter agent closed the chapel door. Then he turned and faced his former teammate, and the baritone voice sang softly for both of them:

_I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,_

_Entire, and whole, and perfect, the service of my love._

_The love that asks no questions, the love that stands the test,_

_That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best._

_The love that never falters, the love that pays the price_

_The love that makes, undaunted, the final sacrifice._

Later that evening, in the solitude of the study, he took pen to paper, and made his peace: _I remember the funeral having a foreboding and eerie silence, and stillness about it— the man in the coffin the one who usually filled such quiet moments. No one could say in words how much Bobby's death had changed them, but we all knew that it was somehow the end of something. It was the last time we were all together, and would remain that way for the rest of forever..._

_Jack was right; I did need to hear the song again today. Bobby would tear me up one side and down the other if he knew I was stressing over this._

He sat back and let his gaze drift over the photographs that lined his desk; he wasn't fond of clutter, so the few frames he'd chosen had special significance. One had been half-covered for several years by a small replica of the coveted "Myrtle's Girdle" trophy; now Myles picked up the trophy, stood and deliberately placed it on one of his bookshelves. Then he returned to the leather chair and gazed at the photograph.

D's promotion to supervisor — they'd toasted him properly with a grand sendoff, and Donna had taken a team photo. It was the last time they were _really_ all together, as a unit. Until Bobby's death, the photo had been a reminder of good times; after, it only served as a reminder of what was missing.

But now it was something new again; a reminder of the family they'd forged, as real and endearing as Myles' own blood family. Through Arif Dessa and Howie Fines, kidnappings and coffee makers, bank robberies and bachelor auctions, they were a part of each other, through time and distance and… sorrow.

Myles looked straight at Bobby in the photo, and let the words run through his mind to whomever might be listening. _Forgive me, 'mate.' I thought I'd said all I needed to that night in the woods. But I didn't, and it's haunted me for ten years without my even realizing it. You kept me humble, you kept me on my toes, and you kept me honest with myself and everyone else. Thank you._

For a moment, he could have sworn he heard the Aussie's voice: _Too right, mate._ Then he closed his journal, turned off the lights, and walked upstairs to his family, his soul truly at peace for the first time in a decade. Tomorrow he would begin the final transition and preparation for passing on the torch – _Keep the flame of justice burning bright as the stars that call us home. You still have my word._


	7. Chapter 7: Business as Usual

**Chapter 7: Business as Usual

* * *

**

_Le Petit Monsieur Restaurant_

_Tuesday, October 2018_

_12 noon

* * *

_

"I think you've single-handedly kept this place in business for the last twenty years." Tara Williams Leland grinned over her lemonade. She'd called him earlier to see if he was free for an hour.

Myles wrinkled his nose at her. "You invited me out to lunch just to abuse me, didn't you, 'Sis'?"

"Beats cleaning your clock at the gym, doesn't it?" She smiled impishly. "It's been too long. You're the best sparring partner I ever had." Picking up her menu, she glanced at it before looking up at him again. "So, you okay with this new assignment?"

He nodded, leaning back in the chair and absently spinning his iced tea on the coaster. "Mmm-hmm. Amazingly enough, I'm starting to anticipate sharing my vast experience with the younger sect."

She rolled her eyes at him with a grin, then sobered a little to watch him carefully for a moment. Even though they were in-laws, and lived less than two miles from each other, their schedules made it difficult to get together very often. Still, she could tell something was different than the last time she'd seen him.

It was never easy to get Myles to share his feelings, so she opted to start with something completely predictable. "Sam's just dying to sneak in and take your place sometime; he said something about 'teach the greenies about _real_ FBI work.'"

Myles laughed. "Where _is_ my irrepressible twin this week, anyway? Hong Kong? New Delhi? Heaven forbid, Monte Carlo?"

"Nowhere quite so exotic this time," she smiled in return. "He's working on setting up a foundation out in Cheyenne; something about wild horses, I think. I can hardly keep up. He'll be home tonight, though."

"Then we expect you to drop by the house tonight, of course. I want to hear 'Surf Cowboy'."

The waiter came to take their orders just then. When they'd finished ordering, the tall agent leaned back again and grinned at the thought of his twin out on a ranch, tormenting career cowboys with his surfer-dude language. More than a decade had mellowed his brother a lot, but Sam could still out-weird anyone on the planet when he put his mind to it.

"Married thirteen years, and he's still running at Warp 8." Myles shook his head. "I don't wonder you two never had kids of your own. Even your considerable charms couldn't keep him grounded long enough."

Tara blushed a bit at his teasing, but her eyes gained a sad quality. "We never told anyone, but it wasn't for lack of effort. The doctors never did find out what the exact problem was."

His face registered his dismay. "Oh, Tara, I am _so_ sorry. I didn't—"

She raised her hand to cut him off. "It's ok, Myles. I couldn't ask for more. Sam is doing what he loves, and we're happy together. I still have the IT Staff at the Bureau, which I love. We have a wonderful time with your girls; I can spoil my nieces rotten and then send them home." Now she smiled fully. "I call it ample revenge for a 'geek squad' comment some years ago."

Myles chuckled, then toyed with his napkin a bit. "Why didn't you guys ever adopt? I mean, it's not like there's anything you couldn't offer a child, or two, or ten, for that matter."

She shrugged. "I don't really know; we just got too busy helping hundreds of kids instead, I guess. It's been a wonderful thing, going with him when I can, to see the good he does." She answered the next question before he could ask it. "But I still need to do what I'm doing. I believe too strongly in it to give it up, even for a life of philanthropy."

The waiter returned with their salads, and Tara decided it was time to find out what was really going on. "You need to do this job, too, Myles. That's why I asked earlier if you were ready for the change. You didn't sound too happy about it when you called Saturday night to tell us. Now…" She fixed a piercing gaze on him. "Did you finally make your peace with Bobby?"

Myles looked up at her so fast that he missed the fork he was reaching for, and it slipped into his lap. Retrieving it smoothly, he still stared at her for a long moment. "How did you know?" he finally asked, his voice soft.

"More like, how _long_ have I known." She put down her fork and folded her hands together, her elbows resting on the table edge. "I was there that night, Myles. I heard the promise you made to him, and I've watched you turn yourself inside out for the past ten years to keep it. And you've never really felt that you lived up to it, have you?"

He raised a brow at her. "Have you and my wife been confabbing again?"

"I wish," Tara laughed softly. "I've been in your study and seen that team photo get hidden more deeply every year. But today, you seem to be… at peace, I guess. Like the weight of the world is off your shoulders, and this teaching assignment is a new challenge. I can think of only one thing that would accomplish so much."

Now she fixed her dark gaze on him again. "He'd slap you on the shoulder and say 'Good on ya, mate. Go teach those hoons how it's done in the real world.' Then he'd laugh while we all tried to figure out what on earth a 'hoon' was."

Myles entertained her with a smug smile. "I happen to actually know that one, my dear. A 'hoon' is a hooligan. And, having seen more than one incoming class at Quantico, I believe the term becomes more apropos every year."

* * *

:

* * *

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

When Myles got back from lunch, Earl Guaraldi was waiting at his desk with a file folder in his hand. The Italian computer-tech was giving the Harvard grad a look of exasperation.

"Do you _purposely_ go out of your way to drive me off the edge, _nonno_?" Earl asked, a spark of amusement in his dark eyes.

Myles grimaced. "Now what?"

The younger man held out the folder. "I have here a list of files that were on the last CD you gave me, when you cleared out your report files for archiving. There are over fifty. And _none_ of them use the filename system that Lucy set in place six months ago. Don't tell me you and she are still at odds."

Myles rolled his eyes; it didn't matter how many years passed, some grapevine subjects never died out. He and Lucy, his original treatment of Sue, the "great office war" with Randy Pitts… _Though_, he thought with a smug smile, _that one deserved to become the stuff of legend. Snoopy and the Red Baron, indeed._ Still, some days it would be nice to be reminded more of the man he'd _become_, not the one he'd been.

He drew himself up straighter. "It has nothing to do with Lucy, and everything to do with the fact that I simply didn't think about it when I named the files. I'm used to doing it my own way, is all. Change takes time."

"Uh-huh." Earl slapped the folder against his teammate's chest. "Well, I don't have time to decode it. And Records would like the archiving done _on time_ this quarter. You think you can get it back to me by the end of the day?"

"Yes, Mother."

Earl grinned as he straightened, and then tossed another file folder at Brian Rhodes, who had been watching the exchange with a smirk. "Don't look so smug, there, _bambino_. Yours are worse than his."

"Hey, I _learned_ it from him," Brian quipped back. "How can it be worse?"

Just then, Jack walked in with Kendra Phillips, the newest member of the team. Every time Myles looked at her, he _felt_ like a grandfather. Six months out of Quantico, she didn't look old enough to be out of pigtails. She was brash, opinionated, and very good at her job, for someone barely out of the Academy.

Brian grinned. "You know, every time you stare at her like that, I think she's gonna walk over here and belt you, or slap you with a harassment suit."

"Which just goes to show where your mind normally is," Myles countered smoothly. "Kendra just has a way of making me feel ancient without even trying. No one should be allowed that much energy combined with that much attitude." He sat down and began to work on his file list.

Five minutes later, a hand on his shoulder brought his head up. He turned and found himself facing dark eyes glaring down at him through gold-rimmed reading glasses perched on a slender nose.

"And _where_ does it say that your monthly allotment of Stickies can be used for the purposes of re-naming the report files you should have named properly in the first place?"

Myles blinked; the intonation, the turn of phrase, had him stunned. Then a giggle escaped his interrogator, and he smiled, shaking his head. "Good heavens, woman, you're going to give me a heart attack. For a minute I thought Randy had actually returned."

Lucy Dotson Reynolds was laughing fully now. "Sorry, Myles. I couldn't resist. But I _am_ going to dock your Stickies if you don't quit making Earl re-name your files every quarter."

He leaned back in his chair, gazing up at her. "In three… no, two-and-change, days, you won't have to worry about me anymore. And Earl informed me I'm to re-name my own files, which I'm doing right now."

Her dark eyes went impish. "Well, now, that's just the thing. Management Services is now going to be handling the MS out at Quantico as well. So you'll have to retire in order to escape me." She entertained him with a low, spooky laugh.

"Or _you'll_ have to retire in order to escape _me_." The laugh worked much better in his low baritone.

Lucy smiled. "Seriously. You okay?"

He let his breath out in amused exasperation. "Everyone keeps asking that. Yes, I'm okay."

"Just checking. Those poor cadets have no idea what they're in for." She handed him a file folder. "Inventory form for your desk Friday. Nothing major. Darren and I will see you at the party."

"Thanks, Luce." She started to walk away, but he caught her arm. "Hey… I know I've already said this a hundred times, but I'm sorry. For all the messes over the years."

"That did it." She pulled a tissue out of her pocket. "Darn it, Myles, I told myself I could walk in here, tease you like old times and get away without crying. Then you had to go and do something, totally out-of-character ten years ago, that's perfect for you now." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Give 'em hell down there at the Academy." Then she quickly left, dabbing at her eyes.

Myles sat back in shock; across the room, Jack Hudson was chuckling. "Man, when you and Lucy are bosom friends again, I _know_ it's time for a change of scenery."

* * *

:

* * *

_4 p.m._

"Daddy!" Rachel ran into the Bullpen, stopping just long enough to give Jack and Brian high-fives as she flew by.

Myles looked up from his reports, then stood with a smile, sweeping her up and around into a hug. "Hey, Princess. Where's your mother?"

"Mr.— I mean, Agent Helling stopped her by the elevator with a question. She said it was okay if I came in, but that I had to come back if you all were… um… talking shot, I think."

The tall agent laughed. "I think you mean talking _shop_." He fingerspelled it for her.

"Oh. Yeah, that."

Brian waved a hand at her to get her attention. NOT BAD, he signed. WORD CLOSE.

Rachel nodded. "My teacher says my lip-reading is getting better. I still miss a lot, though."

Her father set her down, smiling. "You're doing wonderfully. But I think it's easier when it's a phrase you already know, isn't it? How was your appointment with Dr. Billings?"

Her face fell a little. "He wants to plant me."

"He wants to _what_?" Myles asked as Elizabeth walked in.

Rachel's blue eyes were a bit frightened. "He said my decibel levels are at 95 in my right ear and 100 in my left. That's high enough for a coke…cokel…"

"A cochlear implant?" This time, he fingerspelled it phonetically for her, so she'd get the pronunciation. Then he glanced at his wife. "I thought they said it wouldn't work for her."

The psychologist sighed. "That's what he _said_; what he _meant_ was that her decibel levels weren't enough to qualify her for one. Now they do, and he's pushing the idea. He says that it will stunt her speech and sound recognition if she doesn't have it right away. I asked him about other options, but he's not considering any."

Myles was stunned; he dropped into his chair heavily.

Kendra Phillips looked up from her report. "That's great. Now you can go back to a normal life again."

"Normal?" Brian retorted. "And what's been 'abnormal' about the last four years?"

The redhead snorted delicately. "Gee, let's see… your kid suddenly can't hear you, and you have to not only learn sign language but remember to make sure she can see you, pay for a private school and a tutor to teach her how to read lips, get her a bunch of special stuff so she knows when the doorbell rings or something, drag her to countless 'deaf events,' catering to a bunch of people who can't function in the real world… shall I go on?"

Rachel might not have caught much of what was said, but she got enough. She buried her head against her father's shoulder. Elizabeth's brows lowered darkly.

Jack Hudson was on his feet now, but Myles beat him to the reply. Drawing Rachel onto his lap, he glared at Kendra. "Excuse me, Agent Phillips. First of all, my daughter is sitting right here, so there's no need to talk about her as if she _weren't_ here." He held the little girl close, drying the single tear that had trickled down her cheek. Then he continued. "And secondly, I don't have a single regret about the last four years, except for the fact that Rachel tells me she misses my voice."

"Well, now she doesn't have to," Kendra replied stubbornly. "And I don't believe for a second that you'd not rather have her back as she was, with her hearing intact."

"That's just it, Kendra," Jack said. "A cochlear implant _doesn't _restore hearing, even today. The best it can do is enhance what's left. And it's not a guarantee."

"He's right," Brian added. "Hell, they offered it to me when CIs first came out. I considered it, until they told me that once they bore the hole in my skull to put in the implant, if it _doesn't_ work, my ear is shot completely. And I'd still need my HA for the other ear. None of which has changed in ten years. No, thank you; I'm not risking my Special Agent status on a _possibility_ of a little more range. I'll stick with what I've got, and the culture I enjoy."

"Brian," Myles said quietly. Rachel's eyes were wide, having caught a great deal of what he was saying, and she was visibly trembling.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," the younger agent said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I don't really think this is a discussion for here, Myles," Elizabeth said softly, shooting a glare of her own at Kendra. "We can talk at home. Rachel just wanted to stop and say hi."

"I think you're right." He stood and swept Rachel up in his arms again. "Oh! You're getting too big to do this to, Princess. I'll see you at home later, okay?"

"Okay." Her voice was quiet, and the blue eyes were troubled. "Daddy?"

He nodded and set her down. NOT WORRY, he signed. EVERYTHING O-K. LATER WE TALK.

After they left, Myles walked over and leaned his hands on Kendra's desk. "Kendra, I'm only going to say this once." His eyes were glacial. "Don't you _ever_ demean my daughter like that again, in her presence or in mine, or you and I will have a serious problem. Do I make myself clear?"

The redhead's eyes were wide, but she was silent until he picked up the report Jack had asked him to take to Dimitrius and stalked out of the room. Then she huffed again. "Bleeding-heart parents," she snorted. "Coddle the kid, cater to her disability, and make the rest of the world come to her. I hate to tell him this, but it's Rachel who will get left behind."

Jack had remained quiet during most of the conversation, but now he stood and leaned against his desk, surveying the newest of his team. He started to lay into her, then had a flash of another, much more experienced agent who had said almost the exact same thing almost fifteen years ago. The memory made him take an extra breath before he spoke.

"Let me explain something to you, Kendra, Myles was once of the same opinion as you; he had very little use for a new surveillance specialist I brought in. Because she was deaf, he thought she would only be a hindrance to us, that she could in fact endanger us. Mostly he just didn't want to have to adapt to her needs. He was uncompromising, unaccommodating, and downright rude."

Now Jack stepped toward her until he was in the same position Myles had been. "But he worked with her. He hated every second of it at first, but he worked with her. And he eventually came to the same conclusions the rest of us did: just because she couldn't hear, it didn't affect her ability to contribute to this team. And, by the way, that surveillance specialist now heads up an intern project that is one of the best things ever to happen in the Bureau. Oh, and she's been my wife for the past twelve years. So you might want to re-think some of your preconceptions."

* * *

:

* * *

Dimitrius Gans might be three years from retirement, and he might not see the members of his team on an hourly basis any more, but he knew when something was eating at one of them. He caught Myles as the blond agent dropped a file on his desk and swung around without a word. "Earl giving you a hard time about your file-naming system again?" he teased.

Myles swung back around, and opened his mouth to make a retort, until he remembered the current status of his once teammate and sometime confidante. "I—" He swallowed whatever he was about to say.

D smiled. "Ok, off-the-clock. Sit down. You look like you need a serious vent."

Ten minutes later, Myles sighed. "I just don't understand how anyone can be so narrow-minded. And to comment right in front of Rachel like that. If I didn't pride myself on being a gentleman, I'd have been tempted to punch her out."

The older man ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, and repressed a smile. Instead, he softly and deliberately quoted a phrase he hadn't even thought of in fifteen years. "Occasionally even the deaf squirrel finds a nut."

The blond agent looked up in shock. Then a look of utter devastation swept across the aristocratic features, and his eyes dropped. "Oh, dear G—… D, is that truly what I sounded like? I was just like Kendra, wasn't I?"

"Not quite," D replied. "You had manners enough to keep most of the worst of the comments to yourself. But the attitude? Oh yeah." At the horror he saw in his friend's eyes, he sat forward. "Myles, that was fifteen years ago, and you're not the same person. Quit beating yourself up over it."

"I watch Rachel now…" The blue-grey eyes were unfocused. "The elegance of her hands as she signs… her smile, the sweetness that comes through even when she struggles to read someone… the joy in her face when I take her to the symphony and we both kick off our shoes to feel the vibrations better… and I can't imagine her any other way." Now he looked up. "My life is richer, D. A struggle at times, yes; but richer than I could have ever dreamed."

"So what are you going to do about this implant idea?" Dimitrius asked. "It's up to you and Elizabeth."

Myles stood. "No, it's not. It's up to Rachel."

* * *

:

* * *

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur; Myles was so impatient to get home and help his daughter through a very difficult decision that he found himself doing his reports almost automatically. He handed the archive file back to Earl in record time, and actually started Lucy's inventory report. Finally, at five o'clock, Jack told him to get out and go home.

"It'll wait," the unit leader said. "You need to go talk with Rachel. You want some support staff?"

"Thank you, but I already have someone in mind, particularly after this afternoon. Can you spare 'Youngster' as well?"

Brian looked up as he heard his nickname. "Me?"

Myles nodded. "You've been there, or at least have more information on it than I currently do. You have dinner plans?"

The younger man leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his auburn hair and contemplating the ceiling for a moment. "Let's see… I have a choice between my own bachelor culinary talents, or Liz's…" He looked up and grinned. "No contest. Let's go."

On their way out, Myles noticed an aide walk in and put a folder on his desk. He almost turned around and grabbed it quick, but Brian caught his arm. "It'll wait. You'll be back here in fourteen hours anyway. If it's pressing, they'll call."

"True."

They walked out, and no one noticed the blue file folder with its sticky note attached: **_Released from Maryland Prison Center today: Kyle Singleton, jewelry theft and extortion. Sentence served in full._**


	8. Chapter 8: A Fork in the Road

**This chapter is special... and I have many I need to acknowledge. **

The cochlear implant issue has long been a controversial one - it has helped many people, but it's invasive and what independent research I've done leads me to think that I'd never want one.

Those I have talked to among the Deaf/HOH community in our midst have given me a lot of information and personal insights - RK, CB,KS - thank you very much, guys. It has made this issue come to life in my story...

The alternative treatrment we'll touch on is real, and all the specific information I will give is based on my own research. All the sources will be cited. It's an exciting prospect, I must admit, though some may still choose to stay as they are.

I haven't decided yet if we will be audience to Rachel's decision... we'll see...

This is a very good point to re-state that this story takes place 13 YEARS IN THE FUTURE. The research I cite is just now coming to the fore... and I chose to not make up a ream of it for the ensuing decade. So, I have chosen to keep the "tide turning," without going into detail. From the research I did, it's very VERY likely that what is portrayed here will be accurate in 13 years... 

TY so much toCB andRK for both info and personal insight - we talked a lot about these two treatments and what they meant to not only the Deaf community, but to both my betas personally... lol, in fact, Sue's answer to Myles' question at the end is verbatim what I got from RK... It seemed to fit perfectly...

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 8: A Fork in the Road

* * *

**

_Leland Residence_

_Tuesday, 7 pm_

"Liz, that was incredible." Brian leaned back from his third helping of pot roast and rubbed his stomach, then leaned over to Rachel and signed ME BIG BROTHER, YOU WANT?

The eight-year-old smiled a little. DAD NOT A-D-O-P-T YOU, she replied. VERY OLD MAKE HIM FEEL.

Sarah laughed. "Besides," she said in a loud whisper, signing as she spoke, "we already asked. Dad said feeding you alone would eat up his pension in a year."

Myles watched the exchange with a smile; Brian had indeed become almost a sibling to Rachel. Their cultural connection was something that had affected the whole family, and Myles was grateful that there had been a solid "bridge" for them all.

Though his hearing aids made him virtually "hearing," Brian's parents were Deaf, as were most of his siblings. So, unlike Sue, he'd grown up immersed in Deaf culture. He'd also provided a perspective for Myles that Sue never could – a gender viewpoint as well as a cultural one. It had been an interesting journey.

Now, as Brian shot him a mock glare, he laughed as well. "Don't look at me like that, _bambino_," he warned, using Earl's version of the nickname. "I used to hear Jack say you were the only person he'd ever met who could keep up with Bobby at Miller's Buffet."

"Leave him alone, Myles." Elizabeth smiled as she cleared the last of the dishes. "It's a high complement to the chef when a guest leaves nothing for sandwiches the next day."

"But those sandwiches are generally _my_ lunch," the Harvard grad mourned. "I guess I know who's springing for the midday meal tomorrow, then."

Brian's good-natured retort was drowned out by the doorbell ringing, the light above the dining room doorway flashing at the same time. Sarah and Rachel raced to answer it, and squeals of "Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam!" were heard.

Elizabeth glanced at Myles, a surprised expression on her face. He brought his hand to his head. "Oh no… I forgot I'd invited him and Tara over tonight. He just got back from Wyoming."

Her green eyes clouded with concern. "Ordinarily, that wouldn't be a problem, but I called Sue when I got home. She and Jack should be here any minute with Zachary."

Now she looked at Rachel dragging Tara into the living room, chattering delightedly about something, signing again as soon as her hands were free. "We can't overload her, Myles. She's already terrified that Dr. Billings is going to drill a hole in her head whether she wants it or not."

Brian leaned over and touched his teammate's arm. "Hey, why don't the adults go talk a bit first? That way, you can decide how much information she needs before she has to face a whole crowd. Or, if she even _should_ face a whole crowd."

"That's a good idea, Brian." Myles stood and walked into the living room, where both girls were glued to Sam's side, their eyes like saucers as he dug into a large shopping bag. Each girl was already sporting a beautiful cowboy hat; not a tourist-shop knock-off, but a 6 beaver Stetson.

"Daddy! Daddy, look!" Rachel was to him in a flash, pulling him over to the sofa. "Uncle Sam got a hat for you, too! And for Mommy!"

Myles was already shaking his head. "What'd you do, buy up the whole state?"

Sam Leland glanced at his wife, grinning, then entertained his twin with a bewildered look. "Well… it's not like there was a whole lot there, dude. I mean, it _is_ Wyoming. I guess it could have been worse – I could have ended up in Montana." Now he smiled at the girls again. "Which means I wouldn't have found these to go with your hats."

He pulled two pair of hand-tooled leather boots out of the bag, custom-made with "Rachel" and "Sarah" twining down the outside in a beautiful script. Both girls squealed so loudly that Brian winced and promptly adjusted his hearing aids down several notches.

Myles couldn't resist; he elbowed Brian to get his attention and signed ADJUST YOU AFTER TIME.

The doorbell rang again, though Myles only realized it from the flashing light, since the girls were still at about a hundred decibels. He stepped away to answer it.

"Looks like you needed us after all, or Liz did," Jack teased loudly as he and Sue stepped in, their 9-year-old son Zachary in tow. "You didn't mention you were opening a Deaf Club." He grunted as Sue poked him in the ribs.

FUNNY, Myles signed in reply. S-A-M HERE. BACK FROM W-Y TODAY.

Sue smiled. EXPLAIN A LOT. She managed to pull Zach's coat off before he ran to the living room to join the fray. PARTY YOU HAVE, VERY LOUD, ME THINK SMALL NOISE I HEAR ALSO. Myles looked a little confused, so she tried to feel her throat push to talk louder. "From the look of it, _I_ could probably hear them as well."

He nodded now. ME NOT SURPRISE. Blue-grey eyes rolled to the ceiling in mock-exasperation. WELCOME, PLEASE ENTER MAYBE DANGER. They laughed together at the horrified expression on his face.

* * *

:

* * *

MOM! Zachary Hudson ran over as Sue sat down, his dark eyes wide and excited as he held up a pair of hand-tooled boots, minus the fancy writing. WAY COOL! 

Sam grinned at her. "I thought about getting a six-shooter holster for him, then decided I wanted you still speaking to me." He laughed as she signed GOOD THINKING, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Hey, pardner," Jack drawled, ruffling his son's blond hair as Zach plopped down on the floor and promptly shed his sneakers. "Those are some fancy spurs."

The boy's face split into a huge grin. "Yeah, and Uncle Sam said he's got a horse for me out on the ranch, too!"

"A _what_?" Several sets of eyes nailed Sam, including Elizabeth, who had just come in from the kitchen with a tray of coffee and cake.

Sam looked at the lot of them as if they were daft, then very slowly brought a "closed 3" hand to his right temple and waved the index and middle fingers a couple of times. He spoke very slowly. "A horse. Big, four legs, eats a lot of hay? I just set up a foundation for a couple thousand wild mustangs. Three tame pintos didn't seem to mess up the numbers that much."

Tara was laughing. "Don't argue. You all know better by now." She stood and turned around once, modeling a full skirt and a matching vest over a blue shirt. "If he got me into suede fringe, you all are goners."

"When school lets out, we'll just take a little trip," Sam shrugged, smiling as the kids went into hysterics again.

Elizabeth held up a hand for quiet; it took a minute. "Well, before y'all head out to the north forty, there's a kitchen full of dishes waiting." A chorus of "aww" was the response. "Go on, girls."

Sue got the hint. "Zach, go help them, please."

He turned, betrayal etched into the fine features of his face as he spoke and signed. "Mom! I didn't eat here tonight!"

"Zachary." Jack drew the namesign out slowly, a "z" signed at the side of his chin.

"Besides," Sue said, smiling now, "the more you help, the faster you and the girls can go play."

The 9-year-old sighed dramatically. "Okay, okay. But I'm sending them a bill." The quip might have gotten him in big trouble if he hadn't been grinning the whole time.

Myles chuckled. "I am _so _glad my kids aren't the only ones who've been corrupted by my twin."

Tara glanced around at the group as the _clunk-clunk_ of cowboy boots faded across the hardwood floor. "So what's going on? This looks like a serious pow-wow."

It only took a few minutes to fill them in on Rachel's appointment, and the doctor's suggestion. When they'd finished, Sam was scowling. "There's nothing wrong with Rachel. He makes it sound like she's broken. You're not seriously considering this?"

"We're not considering anything yet, Sam," Myles reassured him. "This is up to Rachel. There are some other options available, and we wanted to hear about them before we talk to her about any of it. It's her choice."

Tara looked at Elizabeth. "Lot of people for an 8-year-old with a tough choice to make. Would it be better if we clear out for awhile? Sam was hoping you'd let us take the girls tonight for a sleepover, and we'd take them to school tomorrow, but if you think it's too much…"

The psychologist thought for a minute. "Actually, that might be a very good idea. It would give Rachel a break, and give us time to figure out how much information she needs. We're still processing, too."

"Okay," Sam was already on his feet. "We'll go supervise the cleanup and then get a game or something going. That way, they won't think it's weird if we vanish and then show up later."

"Thanks, Sam," Myles replied. "And by the way; are you sure those professional cowboys are going to let you _back_ into the state to take the kids riding?"

* * *

:

* * *

Elizabeth sat down next to her husband after serving everyone's coffee. Jack, Sue and Brian were all on the sofa, and Myles had taken one of the side-by-side armchairs opposite. He squeezed her hand once, then leaned forward. "All right," he started. "Obviously, Rachel isn't very keen on the idea of a very invasive surgery. But I don't know a whole lot about what other options there are, or _if_ there are any. I assume that you know more than I do." 

Jack chuckled. "That's a first." He waved a hand as Myles gave him a sideways glance. "Sorry; couldn't resist. I'll be quiet now." He made a show of being very interested in his carrot cake.

Sue swatted him with a smile, then turned back to Myles. "Well, cochlear implants have been around since the mid-1980's. In all honesty, there hasn't been a lot of advancement in the technology, even after nearly forty years. It's a simple enough design: a small electronic device is implanted under the skin behind the ear, then electrodes are connected to the non-working parts of the ear and to the receptors which lead to the brain. It doesn't restore or create normal hearing. Instead, under the right conditions, it _can_ give a deaf person a useful auditory grasp of the environment, and help him or her to understand speech."

"Yeah," Brian added cynically, "only what most audiologists don't tell you is that it's not guaranteed, and if it doesn't work you're out of luck." He caught the glance exchanged between the Lelands and softened his tone. "Sorry. Because the process bypasses the ear canal totally, it destroys _all_ of the normal hearing. What little was there, isn't anymore."

Sue nodded and continued. "What they also don't tell you up front is that even now, most insurance won't cover it because it's still considered 'cosmetic' – and that in 2000, the surgery was $65,000. Today, that figure is at about $90,000. And you also have a month's recovery time, then an activation and fifteen to twenty 'mapping sessions.' That's training for re-recognition of sounds."

"And it's possible that a hearing aid would still be necessary," Brian piped in again. "They still only do it in one ear. If it didn't work, then Rachel would still be deaf. And she'd be worse off than before, because they only implant your 'better' ear, to ensure the best hearing. Also, CI's don't last forever; most of them burn out after five to ten years and have to be replaced. And some people I know who've had them tell me the sound is really tinny – even after thirty-plus years of research."

"CIs have helped many people," Sue finished, "but I personally think that the researchers jumped at a 'Deaf cure' a little too fast. There are still just too many uncertainties, and too many risks."

"Okay," Elizabeth said, crossing her legs and rubbing her temples as she leaned back against the soft leather chair. "This all matches what little reading I've done. I think it's safe to say that if there's no other alternative, Rachel would be better off as she is, since she really has adjusted quite well. The idea of a cochlear implant terrifies her right now."

"What do you know about a technique called HCR?" Myles asked. "I saw an article about it recently on the bulletin board where our support group meets, but I haven't had time to look into it."

Brian chuckled. "If you've only seen _one_ article, then you're way behind. HCR has been around since the turn of the millennium, but they've worked much more slowly and cautiously, mainly because of the nature of what we're talking about."

Sue was nodding. "HCR stands for Hair Cell Regeneration, and it's a gene therapy. Since we've finally realized that we're not always ready to play God, they've taken their time. But it's very promising. It won't work for all cases of deafness, because not all cases are caused by hair cell destruction. In Rachel's case, though, it might well be worth waiting for."

Myles took a sip of his coffee. "I don't want it to sound like I'm ready to have my daughter 'repaired.' I hope you don't think that…"

"Of course not, Myles," Sue replied easily. "I know that you've done everything you can for Rachel, and that you haven't really begrudged a minute of it. You had me surprised, as completely as you dove into the culture. It says a lot about your bond with her."

"Well, I _could_ comment about a golf hustler you introduced me to," he smiled, signing it at the same time, "but I think I'd rather hear more about this research."

Brian picked up the discussion, signing as he spoke to give Sue a break. "Well, you know that until the last fifteen years or so, it was commonly believed that all species of animals _except_ mammals could regenerate hair cells spontaneously."

"Yes," Elizabeth responded, "but let me make sure I understand. Hair cells are essentially sound receptors, catching auditory waves that translate to sound, yes?"

"Right," Brian replied. "And most hearing loss, especially in late-deafened adults, is caused by the destruction of hair cells due to illness, drug interaction, or excessive exposure to loud noise. In Rachel's case, it was the meningitis."

"Research into whether the same procedure scientists observed in other species could be copied in mammals started clear back in 2000, in Great Britain," Sue said, "and it began to work, in mice at least. By introducing a gene, they were able to stimulate regeneration of hair cells. They also had some success in a hair cell transplant, where they were able to grow mice hair cells in a test tube."

"Within three years, a patent had been issued to a European pharmaceutical company," Brian continued. "But it still wasn't widely available. People were starting to realize that you don't mess around with genes without having a very good idea of what you're going to tweak in the process. But the idea had started, and it showed promise. More people got involved…"

"Now, after fifteen years, it's becoming more and more of a 'when' than an 'if,'" Sue added. "From what I've read, it's really nearing the point where HCR will be a viable option."

"Then why didn't the audiologist _offer_ it as a possible option?" Elizabeth's voice mirrored her frustration from earlier.

"Because technically it's still experimental, and there are always 'old school' types who want to stay with the 'proven' methods. And it won't be cheap either, though it may be covered by insurance in time," Brian replied. "Look, you need too understand; HCR isn't a 'next week' thing. It's still several years, perhaps as much as a decade if you're really cautious, down the road. _But_, it's close enough that Rachel may not want to risk a CI and ruin any chance she could have later with HCR. That's if she decides she wants to do anything at all."

"Let me ask you both something." Myles sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on his knees and folding his hands together. "If HCR were offered to the public tomorrow as a viable, all-but-guaranteed treatment for your hearing loss – would you do it?"

They both looked at him, and Myles noticed that Jack's attention was peaked as well. "I'm just curious," he clarified. "I'm sure Rachel will ask you both as well."

Brian leaned back, resting his arm on the sofa and tapping at his chin. "As an all-but-guaranteed? Honestly, I might consider it. But I've lived with my hearing aids all my life; in terms of most Deaf, I'm only _culturally_ Deaf, not medically. HCR wouldn't change my life that much necessarily, except in the fact that I'd save a bundle on batteries."

Myles nodded, chuckling, then looked over at his former teammate. "Sue? I suspect your answer might differ."

Sue glanced at Jack for a moment. He reached over and took her hand. "Sweetheart, I'm curious, too, but I would never push you to do something you didn't want to. If you ever decided to do it, I'd be there to help. If not, I still love you. You know that, right?"

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, I do know that." Then she turned to Myles. "I think if I'd had a few more years of being able to hear, I might entertain the idea. But so much of my life has been… in silence, you would say. I suspect I would have a much harder time learning sounds again than either Brian or Rachel." Her smile got wry. "Besides, at my age I'm used to asking 'what?' and having folks repeat things fifty times if needed. Though Levi might like to retire."

There was soft laughter all around at that, and Myles teased her a little, surprised again at how far they'd come from the adversaries of fifteen years ago. L-E-V-I HAPPY HIM NOT IN BIG MESS EVERYDAY NOW.

"Yes, but he's disappointed, too; he never gets Tea Room scones anymore."

* * *

:

* * *

The girls were off to Sam and Tara's, the others had gone home, and the house was silent. Only a single light was still on. 

"You're quiet." Elizabeth was standing in front of the dresser in her nightgown, a white silk one like he'd given her the night before their wedding, brushing out her waist-length hair. She glanced in the mirror at her husband, who was stretched out on the bed, his hands clasped behind his head, contemplating the ceiling. "Still processing?"

"It's going to take awhile," Myles replied absently, bending each leg up in turn to untie his shoes, then kicking them onto the floor, unbuttoning his shirt at the same time. "They gave us quite a ream of information."

"That they did." She turned. "What are your first thoughts?"

"That I have no idea what I would do if it were me." He got up, dropped the dress shirt in the hamper, and walked over to her, taking the brush from her hand and running it over the back of her hair, loving the feel of ebony silk in his hands. "Or if we should subject Rachel to any more chaos right now. What about you?"

The psychologist sighed softly, closing her eyes at his touch. "I think a cochlear implant is a very bad idea for her right now. It's been four years; she's finally adjusted enough to where her life has some semblance of normality about it again. An invasive surgery, recovery, and mapping sessions would throw her into chaos again."

Now she turned again and slipped her arms around his waist, letting her hands drift under his t-shirt. "And I don't like the idea of the risk involved, and the fact that it's really a one-shot. I think the idea of looking into HCR and seeing what sort of options are there would be better for her, if she decides to do anything at all."

"I agree. It certainly sounded like a much gentler way to do things." He set the brush on the dresser and ran his hands through her hair. "But we're still going to let _her_ make the decision, right?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I think it would be best. I don't agree with the audiologist that we're under the gun. Rachel is highly articulate, her reading is above her age level, and she's adjusted very well socially. She has a circle of friends that includes both Deaf and hearing, and she handles social situations with more grace than I thought possible. More so than _I_ do at times."

"Maybe it's time to get a new audiologist," Myles suggested. "I'll ask Brian tomorrow if he has a recommendation."

"May I ask you something?" His wife leaned into his embrace, her cheek on his chest.

"Mmm-hmm."

"If Rachel _were_ to decide to do something, and it worked, would we still stay involved in the Deaf community?"

Myles looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Elizabeth led him over to the bed and sat them both down, taking his hand. "It's not just the medical aspects of this we need to consider, Myles. And Rachel will need some information along these lines as well. A great deal of her support network right now is ingrained in the Deaf community here. Helga, her friends at Chesterfield, the plays she's involved in, her volunteering as a storyteller at the library… if she decides to try one of these treatments, we need to make sure that her support doesn't get knocked out from under her at the same time."

He pulled her into his arms and leaned back, stretching out again as she snuggled next to him. "Is this some subtle way of asking if _I'm_ going to back out?"

"Well, you wouldn't have to endure another golf tournament." Elizabeth laughed as he poked her in the ribs, tickling her; then her face grew serious. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "It just occurred to me while we were talking tonight. It's not just Rachel; I know you have some wonderful friends in the community as well. So do I. We have become an integral part of it, and I don't want to feel like we're abandoning them just because Rachel can hear again."

"Fine line to walk, isn't it?" He dropped a kiss into her hair. "But then, we've walked a fine line through all this anyway. But my answer is no. I can't see turning my back on Ron, or Helga, or any of our friends in the Deaf community. Rachel's medical status has nothing to do with that."

She smiled up at him. "Do you have any idea, truly, how far you've come? The man I met fifteen years ago wouldn't have said that with such conviction. In fact, I doubt he'd have said it at all." Now she pushed up on one elbow and ran her finger down his chest.

A fine blond brow popped up, over mischievous blue-grey eyes. "I take it you find that particular fact… intriguing?"

Her soft, throaty laugh jolted every facet of his being. "Why don't you finish getting ready for bed, and I'll show you exactly _how_ intriguing."


	9. Chapter 9: Just Desserts

**Chapter 9: Just Desserts

* * *

**

_Leland Residence_

_Wednesday, 27 October 2018_

_6:30 am

* * *

_

"It's too quiet." Myles was in the bathroom, shaving, as Elizabeth slipped on her shoes. "Why do I not remember mornings being this quiet?"

The psychologist laughed. "Because our mornings haven't been this quiet in eleven years." She stood and walked over to him, giving him a quick kiss on his shoulder, since his face was still covered in shaving cream. "I'll go get the paper and start coffee while you finish getting ready."

"Coffee, the paper _and_ quiet? I don't think I can take all this luxury." Her laugh carried back from the hallway. Myles grinned as he finished scraping the razor over his face, then grabbed a towel and his aftershave. He might joke about it as luxury, but the truth was the quiet house only served to drive home the fact that his girls were growing up. That fact made him a bit sad as well.

Ten minutes later, however, he was looking forward to breakfast with his wife before heading in to the office; he had meetings set up today with his snitch network, to see how many of them would continue working with Brian or Ed. After yesterday, he was glad that Jack had decided to pass his own snitch network along to Kendra; he wasn't sure he could have handled being with her today. Myles straightened his tie, holstered his primary sidearm, and headed downstairs.

* * *

:

* * *

"Sweetheart?" The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft chiming of the coffeemaker. _Maybe she got talking with one of the neighbors._

He glanced out the window next to the front door, but the sidewalk in front of their house was empty in the early dawn. "Elizabeth?"

There was no answer. Myles walked over to the door leading to the garage and checked the security panel next to it; the alarm was still on. _Where is she?_ "Elizabeth! We really don't have time for a game of hide-and-seek… though I do rather enjoy being found."

"I'm in the study, Myles."

He thought he'd heard the slightest catch in her voice, but brushed it off. Smiling, he turned the doorknob. "You know, you're not supposed to make it this eas—" He stopped dead in his tracks.

The years had been remarkably good to Kyle Singleton; it always irked Myles when hardened criminals aged better than the agents who put them in prison. But there was nothing antiquated about the .45 pistol he was sticking into Elizabeth's neck, the hammer cocked back and the man's finger on the trigger.

"Well, well," Kyle purred, "long time no see. Lose the gun, Ace. Real slow; both the main event and the backup, if you don't mind."

Elizabeth was trembling noticeably; the last time she'd had a gun held on her like this was at the hands of a serial killer. Myles slowly removed his sidearm from the holster at his right hip and laid it on the bookcase, then did the same with the smaller gun in his ankle holster. "All right, Kyle. Now let her go."

"Not just yet." The younger man's hazel eyes glittered in the lamplight of the study. "Lose the cell phone, too. Turn it off before you lay it down. In fact, take the battery pack out." He gestured with his head toward a cell phone already on the bookcase. "Then do the same with hers."

_How did he get in here? The alarm is still on._ His mind worked swiftly while he did as Kyle demanded. _At least the girls aren't here. We can get through this._ He met his wife's eyes and saw the emerald pools calm slightly. "All right, Kyle. Both phones are incapacitated. I've done as you asked. Now give me something, here. Let her go."

Kyle's eyes narrowed at the calm tone. "Don't mess with me, Leland. I know all the little tricks now. And you haven't got a deal-making leg to stand on. Sit down." He indicated the small loveseat. "And I want your hands where I can see them at all times, or this pretty lady is gonna be minus a head."

Elizabeth shot a glance at her husband as he sat down slowly. The barest shake of his head said it all: _Not yet. Do as he asks for now._

"Aww… you look so lonely. Here." Kyle shoved Elizabeth toward the sofa. She caught herself before she fell on top of her husband, and his hands caught her shoulders. "You sit right there next to him, sweetie. Same rules."

She nodded, resisting the urge to grab Myles' hand as she settled into the loveseat. Then she saw his hands move slowly against his legs in a sign combination. WAIT OPPORTUNITY.

Her eyes went wide, but she replied O-K.

"Now then," Kyle drawled, dropping into the leather desk chair and propping his feet on the mahogany end table, "What _shall_ we talk about?"

* * *

:

* * *

_Sam and Tara's house, Georgetown_

_Wednesday, 7 a.m._

"Let's go, ladies!" Sam called up the stairs.

Sarah's head popped out of the door of the room the girls shared when they stayed over. "I can't find my backpack!"

"It's down here already." Tara called after her, then walked over to her husband and slipped her arms around his waist. "Aren't you glad we can send them home?" She laughed as he rolled his eyes.

"OK, OK…" A second later both girls came racing down the stairs, with Rachel landing on the cotton throw rug and skidding to a stop directly in front of the entry table.

WOW, Sam signed to her, his eyes wide with admiration. YOU GOOD. "I could never do that with a rug. Just a cookie sheet."

Tara gave him a severe glance. "Don't give them any more ideas. We have to go, or you're going to be late for school." She signed it as well.

Rachel shook her head. "I want to call Daddy this morning. He always tells me a quick story before I go to school. If he's home, he signs it; if he's at work, we do relay; if he's undercover, he leaves me a email. It's _every_ morning!"

Tara glanced at her watch. WE LATE, she signed. DADDY STORY WAIT AFTER SCHOOL. SORRY. DADDY EMAIL MAYBE LATER.

"Would you settle for an Uncle Sam story?" Sam knelt down in front of her. "About Glorfindel and the Ogre of Manning Castle?" He glanced up at Tara, who was suddenly hiding a smile. "I can ride along with and catch a cab home before I have to go to my meeting today."

Rachel thought for a moment. "Okay. But just this once."

They headed for the door; Sam paused for a moment as he caught a buzz of apprehension from his twin; it was a fairly common occurrence, with Myles' line of work, so he didn't think much of it. "Hey, wait up!" he called, his mind already forming the story…

* * *

:

* * *

_Leland Home, Adams-Morgan_

_7:30 am_

It had been a silent thirty minutes; Kyle had done little more than stare at them and scrape mud from his shoes onto the edge of the antique desk. Myles, who would have preferred to rip the man's legs off at the knees, focused instead on figuring out what was running through Kyle's mind. Was he planning to just toy with them a little, or were his objectives more lethal?

Elizabeth's hands were ice-cold as he squeezed them briefly, but she had stopped shaking. Her eyes slid sideways until she caught his gaze, and her delicate brows went up in question. He shrugged, and shook his head slightly.

Suddenly, a chuckle from across the room caught them both by surprise. "Look at you two," Kyle chortled, "sitting there trying to decide if I'm for real or off my carrot. Man, the FBI hasn't changed a bit."

Myles felt his wife's hands move; he glanced down to see her sign HIM ME T-A-L-K. He nodded, but signed CAREFUL all the same.

"You seem to have a great deal on your mind," Elizabeth said casually. "You have a captive audience, so to speak; you may as well get it all out while you have the chance."

Kyle looked at her narrowly, then swung his feet onto the floor, scattering clods of mud everywhere, then got up and walked over to her, the gun ready. "You think I don't remember he told me you're a shrink? But you're right; maybe a vent would be a good idea, since it's your husband's fault my life has been screwed for the last thirteen years, and will be for the next fifty."

She felt Myles stiffen next to her, but placed a hand on his leg. "Well, he's right here. You have a chance to tell him exactly how he did that."

There was a derisive snort. "Last chance, anyway. All right." Kyle resumed his seat and kicked back, keeping the gun in his lap, but with a looser grip. "Where to start…"

As the man started cataloging all his woes, Myles poked Elizabeth in the arm. WHAT he signed, his brow furrowed in question.

She smiled. HIM TALK, LOSE MORE ANGER, AND NOT THINK RIGHT. PLAY GAME YOU ALSO. LISTEN OR NOT. SAME-SAME.

The Harvard grad rolled his eyes. TEN MINUTE, ME SHOOT HIM SAME-SAME.

* * *

:

* * *

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Wednesday, 8 a.m._

"Anybody see Myles yet today?"

Brian Rhodes looked up as Jack walked into the Bullpen. "Nope. Figured he had a meeting with a snitch or something. Or maybe he decided to scuff off his last two days."

Jack shook his head. "Not Myles. And he always calls in if he's got an early appointment. You know that."

Kendra Phillips snorted into her coffee. "Maybe there was a Deaf Breakfast Club somewhere."

"You want to give it a rest today?" Jack glared at her. "Or I can find another unit that would be more than happy to have you. I understand there's an opening at the legat in Warsaw, Poland. They supervise the remote office in _Greenland_."

Kendra huffed again and grabbed a report to work on. Jack walked over to Brian's desk and leaned against it. "He didn't say anything last night about an early meeting, and I know he was planning to take you and Earl out today and hook you up with his snitches."

"Dunno," Brian replied. "Does seem a little weird."

"No," Jack responded. "It's a _lot_ weird." He glanced over at Myles' desk, and picked up the blue folder from the in-box. "Hey, what's this?"

Brian shrugged. "Aide dropped it off last night. It wasn't flashing DEFCON 5, so I told him it could wait till this morning. He really wasn't thinking Bureau business last night, anyway."

"I know." Jack looked at the sticky note on the front. "Kyle Singleton… Kyle Singleton… why does that name sound…?" He flipped open the folder and read the case synopsis. Then his head snapped up. "Earl? Would you try calling Myles' cell, please? I'm going to try their home phone."

"Why?" Brian asked. "Who's Kyle Singleton?"

"Someone I hope isn't out to really screw up our last two days as field agents."

* * *

:

* * *

_Leland Residence_

_8:15 a.m._

The ringing of the phone interrupted Kyle's tirade. "Don't touch it," he warned.

Elizabeth's voice was calm. "If it's either of our offices, they haven't been able to reach us on our cells, and they're wondering where we are. If we don't answer, you're likely to have half the FBI bearing down on you." She looked at the caller ID. "It's Myles' office."

The gun swung around. "You have a family emergency and won't be in. And make it convincing, Leland; you're an excellent con, remember?"

The blond agent nodded as Elizabeth handed him the phone. He was about to answer it when Kyle stopped him. "Just a minute."

"The machine will pick it—"

"I know!" Kyle snapped. He dragged Elizabeth to her feet and held the gun to her head again. "Just so you have some incentive."

Myles paled slightly, but brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

In the Bullpen, Jack was instantly alert. "Myles? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Jack," Myles replied calmly, his eyes never leaving Kyle's. "We simply had a family emergency come up, and I was about to call you to tell you I wouldn't be in."

Jack had hit the speakerphone button as soon as Myles had answered, and now he was getting strange looks from everyone else. "Anything you need some help with?"

"No, it's fine. We'll just be out of touch for awhile today. Would you ask Patricia to reschedule my three-ten appointment with the Director? I'll have to do it tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Jack responded. "Hope things work out. We'll see you tomorrow, then."

"All right. Goodbye." Myles hung up the phone and raised a brow at Kyle. "Was that satisfactory?"

Kyle shoved Elizabeth back onto the couch. "Fine. I think your acting skills have improved dramatically. I didn't hear a police or FBI code in there anywhere. And I've done my research, believe me." He leaned on the desk. "Now, where were we…?"

* * *

* * *

In the Bullpen, Jack tapped his fingertips on the edge of his desk. "Earl, pull up the GPS on Myles' cell. Brian, check with the security company that does their home system; see if there have been any weird blips on the radar. Kendra, I want you to call Sam Leland and see if the girls are all right."

"Ok, whoa and back up." Brian held up a hand. "Since when does a family emergency and a rescheduled appointment add up to a personal 9/11?"

Jack smiled. "Trish, Myles _does_ have an appointment with the Director this afternoon, yes?"

The rotor, Patricia Heward, checked the schedule. "He does, but it's supposed to be at 2:30, not 3:10."

"Exactly. Thank you."

"So why'd he say it was at three-ten?" Earl queried.

Jack's smile got bigger, even as his dark eyes hardened. "Because seventeen years ago, when I first formed this team, Bobby, D, Myles and I were just goofing around one night, and got talking about what might happen if one of us got in trouble and had no real way of letting anyone know without getting shot in the process. We decided to set up a special code. Not FBI, not even police code, just our own. It was almost like a secret password to some club we formed."

"And this marvelously pedestrian story has _what_ to do with Myles taking a day off?" Kendra muttered.

Her unit leader just grinned. "SAM 3-10 was Wes Kenner's radio code, so we used 310 as a casual code to indicate trouble. This is the first time we've ever had to use it."

* * *

:

* * *

_Leland Residence_

_8:45 a.m._

After listening to Kyle go on for an hour about every trouble in his life, which of course were all someone _else's_ fault, Myles was ready to skip the gun and just strangle the younger man. Only Elizabeth's hand on his leg several times stopped him.

PATIENCE, she signed compactly against her chest. NOT LISTEN. ONLY NOD, YOU RECITE K-E-A-T-S INSTEAD. YOUR FAVORITE.

He squeezed her hand. YOU ANGEL WIFE, YOU KNOW TRUE.

"What's going on?" Kyle's voice interrupted them. "What's with all the hand waving here?" The .45 was up.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said softly. She'd already thought of this. "Over the years, I've developed carpal tunnel syndrome pretty badly, and the doctor prescribed some exercises for me. Since Myles does a lot of computer work, we often do them together. I'm sorry if it disturbed you."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Well, it did. Knock it the hell off, or you won't have to worry about your hands anymore, 'cause I'll put a bullet or two through each one. Yours, too, Special Agent."

"Why don't you just get to the real reason you're _here_, Kyle?" Myles had had enough. "Which is…?"

Kyle blinked, as if he'd forgotten that part. Then he recovered, and his eyes hardened. "Killing you's too easy, too quick for you. I plan to mess up your life, just like you messed up mine. Your lovely lady here is going to die. I just ain't decided when just yet. And we're talking, so you just keep your mouth shut."

Myles felt his wife's hand go cold, but she leaned forward just the same, as if she were sitting in her office with a patient. "May I ask you something, Kyle?" she ventured. He nodded sullenly. "You have your whole life ahead of you; do you really want to—?"

"I got _nothin'_!" Kyle burst out. "Simmons is still in the joint… Ain't nobody gonna hire me for half what I was makin' before…"

"What about family? Surely there must be someone—"

He snorted and dropped back into the chair. "My old lady's been dead since I was eight, and Pop's only use for me was a punching bag. Simmons was my family." Thrusting the gun into the air, he gestured around wildly with it. "And here you sit, Mr. Special Agent, in your fancy house with your fancy wife and your damn fancy pedigree— oh, yeah, I did a little reading up on you— _you_ took everything away from me! All the family I had left!"

"Kyle." The psychologist kept her voice soft and soothing, though she was shaking. "You have a sister, don't you?"

He whirled in the chair to face her. "How do you know that?" The gun swung into Myles' face. "What'd you do, spill my whole damn history over dinner one night?"

"Kyle, I consult for the Bureau," Elizabeth intervened firmly. "I was asked to go over the case file after Simmons' ring was brought down. Part of my job was to check and see if there were any family members who needed to be notified. Myles had nothing to do with my knowledge of your sister."

"She ain't had nothing to do with me in twenty years, and that's the way I want it," Kyle snapped. "It's better that way."

"Is that why you refused to see her the several times she showed up at Marion?" She held up a hand as he glared again. "When I'm assigned a consulting case, I follow up periodically."

"She's fine without me. She don't need a ex-con brother messing up her and her kids' lives." He scowled further. "And if it hadn't been for your damn pow-wow last night with your screwball twin and the hottie jewelry designer-slash-Fed he married, your little princesses would be sitting here, too."

Myles felt his heart jolt. Kyle hadn't simply done a _little_ research; the man seemed to know their family details all too well. And he breathed a prayer of thanks that Sam _had_ taken the girls last night.

"Have you bothered to give her a chance to make that decision for herself?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "You haven't let her see _you_, the man, her brother, in almost twenty years. How can you be so sure she wants nothing to do with you?"

At the same time, he caught the tiniest glimmer of connection with his twin. Sam had gone through much the same type of thing, if not the same circumstances. He focused on a single memory, even as Kyle stood and advanced on him again.

"What the _hell_ do you know about it, Mister Silver Spoon?" The pistol shook as the man stood over them, his eyes blazing and his voice low.

Elizabeth's hand squeezed his hard, a warning, but Myles pushed just a bit more. "Enough to know that your little Purgatory is your own creation if you don't give anyone a chance to open their world to you. Then it becomes _your _fault. No one else's."

"Myles…" Her whisper sent a tremor through him. _What if I'm pushing the wrong buttons?_

Kyle just stared at him for several silent minutes. Then he threw back his head and laughed, a harsh, bitter sound.

"I know something else that's my fault now, too, Leland. Not gagging you when I first had the chance. Time for a little re-work of this scenario, I think."

* * *

* * *

_9:00 am_

Sam was back at the house, going over the business projections for his meeting, a glass of iced tea beside him and Glorfindel winding his way around Sam's ankles. "Looks to be a good year, 'Fin. I think we—"

The sudden tightness in his throat caught him by surprise, and he reached for the glass. _What the—?_ he thought, taking a sip. But it wouldn't go down; it was getting hard to breathe. He yanked the tie loose at his collar, and undid a couple of buttons as well.

Though the twin-speak had faded somewhat over the last fifteen years, mostly due to proximity and Sam's own struggle to find his own "support system," he still got flashes of emotions sometimes. Occasionally there would be a flash of a picture, but not the almost-telepathy they'd once shared. No longer did he find himself wandering through Myles' dreams, or meeting up with his twin in his own.

So he was a bit surprised to suddenly find himself standing on the boardwalk pier, looking at his seven-year-old image being stalked through the eyes of Lyle Matthews. For a moment, raw fear closed in on him, and he felt himself start shaking.

_Wait a second… no, this isn't right…_ The eyes he was looking through weren't getting closer to the boy on the pier; they were just waiting. Sam recalled that Matthews had scooped him up on a dead run, weaving through the pressing crowd like a linebacker. But he still felt the apprehension; it was coming from the person he was seeing through.

Just then, he felt a presence behind him, warm and welcoming and familiar. _Bro, what are you trying to tell me here? Trouble's coming… but not on us yet…wait… gotcha, bro! You hang tight._

The vision faded as quickly as it had come; as soon as he could see clearly again, Sam grabbed his cell phone off the table and bolted for the door. "'Fin, hold my calls and cancel my meetings. There's trouble in River City with a capital T."

* * *

* * *

Kendra Phillips was about to dial her phone when Patricia's voice stopped her. "It's Sam Leland on Line 2. He's asking for Jack."

"I've got it, Trish," the redhead interrupted. "Jack's still talking with Dimitrius." She picked up the phone. "Mr. Leland, Kendra Phillips. Jack had just asked me to call you."

Sam's voice cooled considerably, but he didn't slow down. "Call me why? What's going on?"

"He wanted me to check if Rachel and Sarah were all right. I understand that they slept over at your house last night."

Sam blew out his breath. "They did, and Tara dropped them off at school this morning. You still didn't answer my question. Why?"

"That's all he asked me to—"

"Forget it. I wanna talk to Brian, right now." He waited exactly five seconds. "Never mind." The line went dead.

Before Kendra could even draw a breath, the phone rang again. Patricia picked it up. "Brian, for you, line 3. It's—"

Brian Rhodes had been listening before, and he swooped up his phone in a smooth motion. "Sambo, talk to me." He listened for several minutes, his brow furrowing deeper every second. "All right, listen. Drive into the cul-de-sac, but don't stop. Make it look like you're searching for a particular house. Then meet us a block south of the turnoff. We'll be there in ten."

He hung up, ignoring the look from Kendra as he bolted to the Bullpen door and yelled for Jack. He never even went back for his coat. "Let's move, Red," he snapped, "Time's a wastin.'"

* * *

* * *

_9:15 am_

Elizabeth was silent, her hands twisting in her lap, as Kyle finished tying Myles in the desk chair and using the agent's own tie as a gag. In reality, her mind was going over what she'd heard from the man so far, trying to find a chink, a motive, something she could use to talk him out of whatever he was planning.

_Something… "Simmons was my family."… hmm… I wonder…_ She looked up just as Kyle flopped on the couch next to her.

"Well, now, that's better. I got sick of listening to him run his mouth years ago. Now then, Ms. Shrink, shall we finish our conversation before his buddies show up looking for him?" A wide grin spread across his face. "I'm _really_ going to enjoy watching his face as I shoot you."

_Not going to work anymore, Kyle. I've been here before. And trust me, you're a second-stringer._ "Tell me more about Simmons, Kyle. He sounds like a good friend."

"He was." For a moment, the younger man's eyes registered sadness. "When we was first sent up, he was scared, you know. Young kid like that. But we stuck together, and nobody could touch us. He's the only person who ever made me feel like I was good for somethin' other than takin' up space."

"Your mother?"

He snorted. "She died too soon. Or maybe too late. And my old man made no bones about the fact that I couldn't do nothin' right. Pick, pick, punch, pick. Didn't matter what I did, there was always somethin' wrong with it."

_All too common a story._ But now she had something to work with. Things would be all right until the team arrived. After that, was up to Kyle.

* * *

* * *

Myles watched his wife, fascinated at both her calm and the questions she was asking. In thirteen years of marriage, he'd never had the opportunity to really see her at work in her field.

_Man, I hate gags…_ He itched to work the tie loose enough to get it at least off the corners of his mouth, but he knew it would only make matters worse. Instead, he concentrated on breathing slowly through his nose and listening intently to what she was saying, and what Kyle's answers were.

Part of him wanted to slap the man silly for all his whining; but then a memory sprang to mind, one he hadn't pulled up in years…

He and Bobby had been "volunteered" to do a career-day sort of meeting at a local Boys' and Girls' club in DC. Myles had groused about it for days ahead of time, and all the way to the youth center.

It had taken one scene to turn his attitude around completely. As they pulled up, they saw a boy of about ten with an older man. The boy was proudly showing off a tabletop-style bookcase he'd made himself. It wasn't bad work, for what Myles assumed was a first try…

_The man walked around it a couple of times as they got out of the car, and they clearly heard his voice carry across the parking lot._

"_It ain't level," the man was saying. "You forgot to even it up before you nailed the back on. I gotta get to work. Your mother will come pick you up." And he walked off._

_The boy's face would be forever etched in Myles' mind. The light in it went out as if a switch had been turned off. He stared after his father for a long minute, then looked back at his bookcase. His mouth turned down, his brows drew together, and after a moment he picked up the bookcase and tossed it in the trashcan behind him._

"_Hold up there, mate." Myles didn't even realize Bobby had kept moving until he heard the Aussie's voice. "You're not gonna ditch it just because it's a little crooked, are you?"_

_The boy shrugged. "I can't do it right anyway."_

"_Aw, all it takes is a little practice. C'mon, let's take a look, and I bet you can fix it no worries." Bobby pulled the bookcase off the trashcan and set it back on the work table. "Did you use the L-square on it?"_

"_Yeah, and it was supposed to be straight." Frustration was evident in the boy's tone._

"_Well, let's double-check it the old-fashioned way." Bobby laid the bookcase down on its back and lined one side up with the side edge of the table. Then he grabbed a tape measure. "Here," he said, "take a measure from the bottom of the case on this end to the edge of the table."_

_There was a pause. "Six and… seven-eighths inches."_

"_Okay. Now, since this is a store-bought table, we can pretty much assume that it's square. Now take a measure from the other end at the bottom, to the edge of the table."_

_The boy glanced up at Bobby questioningly; then he took the measure. "Six and… three-eighths inches. But how—?"_

_The Aussie smiled. "That's a pretty old L-square. Sometimes, especially if they've been used a lot, they warp a little over time. You best have one of the counselors check it with a protractor. Or you can do it yourself."_

"_So all I have to do is take the back off, check the measurements again, and fix it that way. Wow!"_

"_You'll want to clamp it in place once you have the back off," Bobby suggested, "So it won't move in between measurements. But other than that, you're good to go."_

_The boy's face lit up again. "Gee, thanks! But I can't do it right now, we're supposed to go listen to some old geezers from the FBI give us a sales pitch…"_…

Bobby had laughed heartily, then gently pulled out his ID. After the boy was convinced he wasn't going to get handcuffed for his comment, he followed them eagerly into the youth center.

Later Myles, who had gotten the boy's name and kept track of him, just out of curiosity, discovered that Shamar Morgan had gone on to create a fine furniture business that was the most successful in the tri-state area. His creations were even in the Supreme Court and the White House.

_How much of an influence do words really have?_ As he watched his wife now with Kyle, he certainly didn't agree with the path the man had taken, but he could understand the temptation, even if Simmons had done little more than say "good job, let's see what else we can do." _Find something you're good at, have someone reinforce that idea… doesn't matter if it's carpentry or counterfeiting, you're likely to stick with it._

He came out of his thoughts fast as he heard Kyle get up.

"I gotta take a leak," the man said. He grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and hauled her to the doorway. "You poke your head out there, darlin', and let me know if anybody's waiting. And I can tell if you're lying, so don't bother."

She nodded quietly, shooting a glance at Myles before she opened the door. He discreetly tapped his index and middle fingers on his thumb. NO. T-O-O S-O-O-N.

Her eyes lowered briefly in acknowledgement, then she turned the knob on the study door and peered out, opening the door wider after a moment. "I don't see anyone. The alarm would have gone off if anyone had come inside, anyway."

"Anyone at the windows?"

"No."

Kyle grinned. "Good. Now, go get your hubby's handcuffs."

Her green eyes went wide. "Why?"

The gun waved toward her, and his voice hardened. "Because I _said_ so, that's why. Go get them. And make it snappy."

Myles tipped his head toward his left jacket pocket as she approached him. She retrieved the handcuffs and whispered, "I hope you have a plan in motion," before she walked back over to where Kyle was waiting.

He shifted a little to ease the numbness that had crept into his right arm. _I have a plan, yes,_ he thought wryly. _Whether it's in motion just yet is up to a couple of other people…

* * *

:

* * *

_

Sam was waiting when the team got there, leaning against his ever-present Jeep Wrangler with his arms crossed and an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.

"Sam, talk to me," Jack started without preamble. "What's going on down there?"

"Not a damn thing," Sam retorted. "I drove past without stopping, just like Brian said to. Myles' car is parked in front, but there's no sign that anyone's home. And I called Liz's office. She hasn't shown up yet, and she hasn't called. I tried her cell, and got her voicemail."

"What did you get from Myles? Before?"

Sam's brows went up. "Thought you didn't put much stock in the twin-speak, Jack."

The unit leader shrugged. "After fifteen years, I'm a little less skeptical."

"Ok." The blond head nodded. "Actually, I didn't get much, not like it used to be. Just a warped image of Matthews bearing down on me when I was a kid. Only he didn't swoop me up like really happened. I was seeing me through his eyes, and he was just standing there, waiting, like. Then I got a sensation that Myles was right there behind me." His shoulders lifted. "If I had to hazard a translation, I'd guess that there's trouble, but it's not reached an absolute crisis yet."

Jack processed that for a moment. "All right. Brian, why don't you and Kendra wander down there and cut through Tom Webber's yard? Come up on the house on the south side, by the garage. See if Liz's car is still in the garage. And check to see if the alarm's still on. The security company says it is, but I want you to check it as well. Just don't trip it, whatever you do."

Brian snorted. "What do I look like, a rookie?" He grinned at Kendra. "Oh, yeah, but I'm bringing one along. I'll keep her on the other side of the fence."

Kendra's retort faded as the two agents headed into the cul-de-sac. Sam frowned again. "What's going on, Jack?"

"I don't quite know yet, Sam," Jack replied. "I tried to call Myles earlier, when he didn't show up at the office, and he gave me an old personal code we'd set up for trouble. He obviously couldn't go into specifics, but I have a hunch it has to do with someone he put away a long time ago. Did you call Tara?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. She's got some high-level sting going down today, and I didn't want to distract her. _Should_ I call her?"

"No," Jack replied quickly, remembering. "It's definitely better if she's not around. This guy has reason to be a little upset with her as well."

Sam's eyes suddenly went wide. "Wait a sec. You don't mean that idiot from the jewelry sting a decade back? The one that almost drew down on my twin and my now-wife?"

Earl couldn't help but smile as he stared at his laptop. "You've been watching too many old Westerns, Sammy. 'Drew down on'? That's a good one."

Jack ignored the quip, and merely nodded. "Kyle Singleton. I had a feeling you'd remember him."

"_Remember?_" Sam's voice went up in pitch. "I remember staring into his eyes on my way out of a restaurant, Jack. I had a feeling, too, dude, not an hour ago – like a noose around my neck. And now that I know what's going on, it's coming back."

"Sam, it's ok. We're going to see what's going on, and then we're going to take care of it. You said yourself that nothing's hit a crisis pitch yet." Jack laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "The very best thing you can do right now is to go to your meeting and let us handle it. I will let you know if you need to come back, ok?"

Sam's jaw set in a manner the unit leader knew all too well from another man. "Jack, if you think I'm leaving, you're out of your mind. _But_, I will get out of your way; I can conference-call my meeting from the Jeep. _If _this little mess drags out until this afternoon, I'll go pick up the girls and keep them distracted. But for now, I'm staying right here."

"I can live with that."

Sam got into the Jeep as he watched Jack and Earl walk back to the van. After a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to relax as much as possible, reaching toward his twin. _Hang in there, bro; the cavalry's coming._

"Earl, give me a recap while Brian and Kendra are getting down there."

The computer tech frowned as he leaned against the command center van and crossed his arms over his chest. "Both cell phones have been shut down completely. They're not transmitting any signal at all, which means the battery packs are out. The security company says the alarm is still on and hasn't been tripped. The last time it was turned off was at 6:30 this morning, for about five minutes, then it was turned back on. Both times the code was used properly."

"One of them went out to get the paper."

"That'd be my guess." Earl shifted position slightly.

Jack thought about that, running the scene through his head. "So how'd Kyle get in…?" he mused.

"Any of the neighbors have security cameras?" Earl asked. "Maybe one of them picked up something. The houses are pretty close together down there, and the fences don't come clear out to the sidewalk."

That triggered a thought, and Jack snapped his fingers. "That's very possible. And I know exactly which neighbor to call." He chuckled softly. "Myles may never forgive me for it…"

* * *

* * *

_9:30 am_

Elizabeth winced as the cuffs closed over her hands. Kyle had dragged her over to the kitchen island, then shackled her to a stainless steel towel rack at one end. The screws were tight; she wouldn't be able to pull it off the island.

He grinned. "There you are. Nice and tidy. Now, where's the facilities?"

"Down the hall there." She used her head to point past the stairs. "First right. There are no windows in it."

"Good. Then I don't have to worry about your husband's buddies." He stroked her cheek with the back of one finger. "Be right back, doll."

She shuddered as he turned and headed down the hall, then twisted slightly until she could see her husband through the open study door. Motioning again with her head, she "pointed" at Kyle, then signed TOILET, a "t" hand shaken slightly.

Myles nodded and fingerspelled N-O W-R-R-Y. S-M J-C-K K-N-W. H-L-P C-O-M-E He then signed the shorthand I-LOVE-YOU.

She smiled wanly and returned the endearment. _I just hope it's in time…

* * *

:

* * *

_

Brian and Kendra crept along the fence that separated the Lelands' yard from that of Tom Webber and his wife, skirting the rosebushes covered in burlap in preparation for winter. When they reached the small utility patio behind the garage, Brian motioned for her to stop.

"You stay here," he whispered. "I'm going to go see if there's any place I can see Myles or Liz without Kyle spotting me."

"We can cover more windows faster if we split up," she argued.

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about faster," he said. "I'm worried about safety. _Stay put._"

Kendra wasn't ready to quit just yet. "If we can get a clear shot, this will be over in a second."

Brian huffed in frustration; if there'd been time, he'd have explained it much more calmly. As it was, his explanation was much shorter and to the point. "First rule is ascertain the situation. The less collateral damage, the better. You go in shooting without knowing what you're up against, people get hurt. If I can see either of them, I can get a very clear picture of what's going on, and we'll know what we're up against."

She snorted. "And how you do plan to do _that_, 'Batman'?"

"We speak a language you _don't_." His patience was up. "So stay put and call in. I'll be back in a minute." He left her to her murmured griping and began to work his way around the back of the house.

* * *

* * *

"You mean some maniac with a gun in holed up right next to my house?" Tom Webber's voice rose in pitch. "I knew it, I _knew_ he was going to get us all killed someday—"

Jack cut the man off before he could get started. "Mr. Webber, if you could just tell us if your security system includes a camera that looks out on your front yard…"

"Oh. Yeah, it does. I have a backup unit in my den— digital output, runs all the time. You want to come check it?"

The unit leader gave Earl a "thumbs-up". "Yes. There are two agents down there right now, checking out the situation. I'll have Agent Phillips stop and check your backup. Can you have it queued up for approximately 6:30 this morning?"

Webber half-grunted into the phone. "Yeah, no problem. You gonna get this guy without some big mess?"

"I certainly hope so," Jack replied, rolling his eyes. "Thank you for your help."

He hung up and blew his breath out. "You know, with a neighbor like that, I'm surprised Myles has passed all his reviews for the last fifteen years."

Earl laughed. "I just talked to Kendra. Brian's headed around the back of the house to see if he can catch a glimpse of Myles or Liz and see what's going on. Kendra said she'd go see Webber."

"Good. When we catch this guy, I want to know how he got in without tripping the alarm. I have a theory, but I want proof."

* * *

* * *

He offered up a prayer of thanks when he saw that one of the sheer curtains on the patio doors in the living room had been left open a few inches. Brian crept around the patio furniture, grateful that the house faced east; he wouldn't be seen in the glare of the morning sunshine. Peeking in cautiously through the French doors, he saw Elizabeth standing at the kitchen island. There was something strange about her stance; after a moment, he realized that she must be tied to something on it. Her attention was focused into the study. _Either Myles, Kyle, or both_, he thought, but he couldn't see from his angle.

He watched as she seemed to check something in the downstairs hallway, then looked back at the study and shook her head. _Ok, Myles is in the study, and Kyle's elsewhere… _Recalling the layout of the house, Brian figured out that Kyle was probably in the bathroom, and had Liz tied to the island, both as insurance and so the two Lelands couldn't talk in his absence. Or so the thief thought.

He tapped very slightly on the window. Elizabeth's head snapped around, and her eyes widened when she saw who it was. Brian had already planned this out, and he started right in. YES-NO YOU ANSWER ONLY. ME ASK. YOU MYLES HURTQQ

She shook her head slightly. _No._

K-Y-L-E TOILET QQ

_Yes._

MYLES YOU TIED QQ

_Yes._

K-Y-L-E GUN QQ

_Yes._

HIM MAD QQ Brian switched to the "1" classifier for Kyle, to save time.

This time she shrugged a little and tilted her head back and forth as if to say _sort of._

HIM MAD, NOT VIOLENT NOW QQ

_Yes._

KILL MYLES HIM THREATEN QQ

_No._

KILL YOU HIM THREATENQQ He jabbed his finger at her for emphasis.

_Yes._

THINK YOU LONG TIME WE HAVE QQ

Again she tilted her head back and forth.

THINK YOU 30 MINUTE WE HAVE QQ

_Yes._ Then she mouthed, "_I've been talking with him, but I don't know how stable he is. Sooner would be better._"

ALARM CODE YOU GIVE MEQQ

Her brows shot up; apparently the idea wasn't something she'd thought of. She turned toward the study for a moment, then nodded and checked the hallway again. "_050102_," she mouthed to Brian.

WEDDING DATE YOUQQ he confirmed. 0-5-0-1-0-2QQ

She nodded.

GARAGE INSIDE NUMBER SAME-SAMEQQ

_Yes._

Brian nodded. OK, SWEETHEART. TELL MYLES HANG-TIGHT. He tugged an imaginary rope in the air a couple of times, the ASL sign for the idiom. WE SAVE HIS BUTT. He winked and saw her smile.

The entire conversation had taken less than two minutes. As he crept back along the fence and then out to the sidewalk, Brian called in. "Jack, things are calm for the moment, but I wouldn't wait too long."

"They okay?"

"Yeah, no one's hurt, but Harvard's tied up in the study, and Kyle's got Liz restrained at the kitchen island while he's in the john. When he gets done, I expect he'll go back in the study and take Liz with him. He's threatened to kill her, and if he's planned that much he'll want to do it in front of Myles. Liz figures we probably need to move within the next 30."

"Copy that. Kendra's checking Webber's camera feed. When she's done, get back here and we'll wait for SWAT. ETA's about ten minutes."

"You got it, Sparky." Brian reached Webber's doorstep just as Kendra came out the door. "Come on, Red, we're headed back to regroup."

"Just don't wreck my fence in the process," Webber called after them. "Or I'm sending Leland the bill."

Brian quirked a grin at Kendra. "You two weren't, like, married in a previous life, were you?"

* * *

* * *

Kyle sauntered his way back into the kitchen. "Well, now, that's better."

Elizabeth restrained the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she opted for a very sincere look. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to grant us the same courtesy?"

The thief eyed her for a moment. "Depends. You I might consider. But why should I grant _him_ anything?" He jabbed his head toward the study and Myles.

"To help your case." She kept her voice low and even. "Hurting or killing me gets you in enough trouble. But he's a Federal officer. That's a serious thing— even _assaulting_ a Federal officer gets you instant jail time. Killing one would have you in the electric chair."

He thought about it; that alone told Elizabeth that he wasn't quite ready to make it a suicide mission. After a moment, he looked at her again. "All right. But no funny business, or I'll drop you instantly and move on to the rest of the clan."

It took all her control not to react to the offhand comment. But her mind was racing. _"Rest of the clan"? What's he mean? Is he already planning to hurt Sam? Tara? The girls?_

Kyle moved into the study. "All right, Agent Leland," she heard him say, "your pretty little missus there just managed to negotiate a pit stop for the two of you." He moved to loosen one of the restraints on Myles' arm, then stepped back out into the kitchen, the gun trained on Elizabeth again. "You can get yourself out of the rest. And no sudden moves, or this little party ends right _here_, right _now_. In fact, I want to see your hands clasped behind your head, just like when you take someone down. _You _see how it feels."

Myles freed himself from the rest of the restraints and eased past Kyle toward the downstairs hall, his hands raised as the thief demanded. At no point, however, did he turn his back on the man. "You know, Kyle. You're not as bad as I thought. Nazi captors wouldn't even let their prisoners do something as civil and decent as this."

"Save it," Kyle shot back. "You got two minutes, starting_ now_, or you come back out to your pretty lady here splattered all over your cherry cabinetry."

As Myles stepped into the downstairs restroom, Kyle pulled out his cell phone and hit a speed dial. "Cory? It's me. You got 'em in your sights? Sweet deal. What about the rest of them? Good. Buzz 'em and tell 'em to sit tight. This ain't gonna take much longer. I just want the moment to be perfect." He hung up and grinned as Elizabeth stared at him, a worried expression on her face. "Tell me, doc: do you all have one of those fancy conference-call setups?"

She nodded, her heart pounding in a sudden dread.

"Good." The man was practically purring now. "When we've covered all the necessities, I'm gonna give 'Super Agent' the reunion of a lifetime."

_What is he planning? Oh, Sam, I wish you could hear me right now. I think Kyle has something far worse in mind than just shooting me._ She couldn't even warn Myles. _Brian, when I said 'sooner would be better'… now would be the best…

* * *

:

* * *

_

_9:45 am_

By the time they regrouped outside the cul-de-sac, ten of the thirty minutes had expired; SWAT had arrived and was ready to go. Brian had filled Jack in on his conversation with Elizabeth, and the tape Kendra brought back confirmed that Kyle, as Jack had suspected, had been hiding behind the tall shrub next to the garage door and slipped in while the psychologist was getting the paper. No doubt he had accosted her there and forced her to reset the alarm before going back into the house.

"All right," the unit leader was saying as they crowded around the van where Earl had taped a large drawing of the Lelands' house and the surrounding neighbors. "Team 1 and 2, very quietly evacuate the houses on either side of the target. Hopefully we won't mess up anyone's schedule for too long. Brian, I want you and Earl going in with Team 3. Use the gas if you have to, but try to _locate _them, an actual visual, before you do anything. I'd rather sneak up informed than bust in blind."

"Jack." Brian leaned over to speak quietly. "We have the alarm code; Liz gave it to me. We can _really_ sneak in, through both the living room and the garage side door. Be a minimum of damage, and probably safer for Myles and Liz."

"Hmm." Jack considered the layout of the house carefully. "All right. But make sure you position teams ready to go in hot if something goes wrong."

"Roger that." The younger agent pulled Earl and the rest of their team aside to plot strategy.

"Kendra." Jack turned to the redhead. "I need you coordinating in the command center."

Her mouth dropped open in outrage. "I'm not staying behind!"

"_Yes_, you are," he shot back. "I need you here."

"You're just doing this because of my fight with Myles yesterday." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "Where are _you_ going to be?"

His eyes narrowed as he backed her up against the van. "_I_ am going to be here running this little maneuver, Agent Phillips, and _I_ am telling you to get in that van right now and get on radio before I ship you back to Quantico for a refresher course on the chain of command. _Do you read me?_"

"Yessir." She didn't quite manage the subordinate tone of voice, but she knew when she wasn't going to win an argument. She climbed into the van without another word.

_Finally,_ Jack sighed. He was going to have a long talk with D about Kendra's future with the unit before he hung up his "whistle." Brian was slated to step in as unit leader, and Jack knew sparks were ready to fly. He wanted the transition to go as smoothly as possible. For right now, though, his mind was focused on the present. _Hang in there, Myles. We're on the doorstep.

* * *

:

* * *

_

_9:45 am_

After he'd given them both the opportunity to use the restroom, Kyle forced them back onto the couch in the study. This time, however, he remained standing, his demeanor much colder than before. Myles realized that whatever the man had planned, it was about to be revealed.

He shifted, ever so subtly, ready to either push his wife out of the fire-line, or make himself a shield for her. _Come on, guys,_ he thought toward the team. _Quit waiting for the perfect entrance…_

"Now then," Kyle interrupted his thoughts, "you get yourself over here, Doc, and dial up your hubby's brothers in Cambridge and the niece at Princeton. Let's have a nice little family reunion." Elizabeth stared at him, stunned, for a moment, and he grabbed her arm and shoved her into the desk chair. "_Now,_ damn it!"

Her fingers were trembling as she began to set up the conference. Meanwhile, Kyle had his cell phone out again and was talking to someone. "Wait for my signal," he was saying.

Myles felt his heart jolt. _Brad… James… Molly… good heavens, he knows about them all…and he has people there…_ But with Kyle aiming the gun directly at his wife's head, he didn't dare make a move. Instead, he concentrated as hard as he could, focusing through many years of comfortable proximity to the core of his twin's soul. Then he proceeded to "shake the tree," his silent scream echoing through his own mind as well.

_**SAAAAAM!

* * *

:

* * *

**_

Jack was about to climb into the van when he heard a dull _thud_ from nearby. He glanced toward the sound and saw Sam Leland plastered against the driver's window of his Jeep, his hands bracing against the steering wheel and the passenger seat. The man's head was shaking wildly, as though he were trying to escape something slapping him in the face. Jack rushed over and pulled open the passenger door. "Sam, are you ok?" he asked.

Sam's face was bone-white, and he was still shaking visibly. "Myles—" he managed to gasp. He clapped his hands over his ears as if against a painfully loud sound.

Jack shoved the briefcase on the passenger seat to the floor, climbed in and took Sam by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Sam!" he shouted, trying to break through whatever was going on.

Sam heard none of it; all he heard was the deafening roar of his twin's mind along with a siren screaming. Then, his mind's eye opened and the noise stopped, though he still was unaware of anything going on around him. Bright images flashed by rapidly; they were rusty on the actual twin-speak conversation, but Sam could feel the old bond strengthening again. He saw Molly, grinning in her Princeton sweatshirt; then Brad and Jamie and their families. Overlaid on each image was another— the old movie image of a robot racing through a corridor yelling "Danger, Will Robinson!"

Finally, his twin's voice reached him through all the layers: **_Brad… Jamie… Molly… danger… Kyle… people watching… get Jack HURRY!_**

"_Sam!"_ Jack was shaking him again, harder.

This time Sam heard him, flashed a quick OK at his twin and surfaced, his mind gasping nearly as fiercely as his lungs. "Jack— Kyle— he's got people— watching my brothers— Molly— danger now— you've got to—"

The cell phone all but leaped into the agent's hand. "Trish!" he shouted before she even finished saying hello, "Get on the phone to the Princeton and Boston offices right now! Conference call them if you have to. Get someone out to the Leland houses, and over to the Princeton campus for their niece." He grabbed Sam's planner and flipped to the addresses, giving them to the rotor as fast as he could. "Tell them it's urgent. Could be snipers or who knows. Just move!"

"I need to get the girls." Sam's voice was hoarse. "I need to be able to tell Myles at least they're safe."

"Sam, the girls are inside their schools and the administrations have been notified." Jack shook the other man's shoulder, trying to pull him completely back from whatever he'd been lost in. "If Kyle has someone waiting outside the schools, you could be making yourself a target, too."

"I _have_ to," Sam repeated. "I need to be able to tell him that much." His blue eyes focused finally and he looked at Jack, who nodded reluctantly in understanding. "You get this maniac," he entreated fiercely as he started the Jeep. "You get him before he destroys our family."

* * *

* * *

"Will you _hurry up_!" he hissed. The gun was shaking a little. Kyle was clearly losing whatever stability he'd had.

"Hang on Molly." Elizabeth's fingers were trembling as well as she pressed the "hold" button on the desk phone. "Kyle," she said as evenly as she could. "I'm going as fast as I can. I'm not good at this anyway, and it doesn't help with that pistol in my face."

"Fine," he spat, turning to aim the gun at Myles instead. "Get your ass over here, Leland, before I lose my temper and just blow you away for the hell of it."

If he hadn't just gotten a shaky confirmation from Sam, Myles would have been tempted to take matters into his own hands and make a move. But the team was close, the message had been sent, and there was no real sense in taking the risk, except for the personal satisfaction. Not a risk he was willing to take with his wife nearby.

"All right, Kyle," he said calmly.

"Sit down. Right there." Kyle indicated the floor by the desk. Myles did as he asked, making the younger man smile smugly. "Now, I'm gonna assume that you're as picky about the quality of your desk security as you are about your house. Where's the key to that file drawer?"

"Hidden safely on the other side of the room." Myles rather hoped that Kyle wasn't looking for more information than that; some of his files were sensitive, though not enough to require they stay at the Bureau.

"Good." Kyle pulled out the handcuffs he'd used on Elizabeth earlier and slipped them through the handle of the file drawer. "Hands, please." He snorted as the agent simply held out his hands. "You're getting awfully tame in your old age," he snickered. "Day was you'd have had some smart-ass quip for me. Ain't getting' old just a bitch?"

_You keep right on talking, smart guy,_ Myles thought as the cuffs closed rather painfully over his wrists. _The more you're gloating, the less likely you're able to hear them sneaking up on you. You've learned nothing in twelve years about letting pride get ahead of you, and that's where we differ._

Elizabeth was finishing up the conference call set-up; she tucked the phone cradle onto her shoulder. "If you're through talking, Kyle, I'm ready. I doubt you want them all to know what's going on?"

"Nope." He stepped back, the gun still trained on them. "You all have yourselves a nice little chat here. I think you already know what _not_ to say. I'll just witness all the love." A sneer curled his lip.

* * *

* * *

_10:00 am_

Brian and Earl flanked the side door to the garage; Brian quickly picked the lock, turned the handle, then pushed the door open and entered the alarm code. "One down," he breathed.

"Yeah," Earl grunted. "The easiest one."

They had people in place at every entrance to the house, just in case they had to go in hot. But the two agents had decided that a single entry point, through the garage, was the best place for the use of the code. Though they'd have to go through two doors, the one from the yard and the one into the house itself, the route offered them the best angle of attack.

"At least this one won't be locked," Brian whispered as they approached the interior door.

"You hope." Earl flattened himself against the wall beside the door.

"Wait," Brian said suddenly. "I just remembered. The floors are hardwood. He'll hear us coming a mile away."

"You want to stage a raid in your stocking feet?" The computer tech grinned. "_Bambino_, there are days I wonder about you."

* * *

* * *

"So what's the big powwow all about?" Brad's voice came over the speakerphone.

Elizabeth had moved to perch on the desk; she exchanged a long glance with her husband before answering. "Just wanted to make sure everyone was still coming tomorrow night," she said brightly. "Figured it was as easy to call you all at once before I head for work."

She flicked a glance at Kyle, but he didn't seem to have a problem so far. She just wished he'd put the pistol down.

"Of course we're still coming," James boomed. "Little brother needs a good roasting before he joins the ranks of the academia. You sure you want a houseful, though? We can stay at a hotel just as easy."

"Is Uncle Myles at work already?" Molly asked.

Kyle nodded very distinctly, a warning in his eyes; he obviously wasn't going to give Myles a chance to speak to his family before doing whatever he was going to do.

"I'm afraid so," Elizabeth replied. "I think he wants to wring every last moment of field time he's got left."

"Figures," Brad laughed. "He's going to need your shrink skills for awhile, Liz. That's got to be a big adjustment."

"Oh, I think he'll be all right. Connie and her husband are coming in tonight, too. And don't you dare think of a hotel, Jamie. Between our house and Sam's, there's plenty of room." Elizabeth suddenly caught a movement in the corner of her eye. She forced herself to move only her eyes, and saw someone at the study door.

Kyle had just closed his cell phone, and was bracing his pistol as it aimed directly at her head. She could hear Myles, his breath tense. She slowly formed and I-LOVE-YOU sign against her thigh, and deliberately turned to face him instead of Kyle. Eyes locked, they waited for it...

* * *

* * *

BANG!

Brian wrapped his arms around Kyle and took him down just as the gun went off. The shot went wide, but not far enough. Elizabeth cried out and slid off the desk.

"Beth! No!" Myles pulled at the cuffs just as Earl reached him. "Get me out of these things!"

"Easy, there, _nonno_." The computer tech quickly fished the keys out of Myles' breast pocket and undid the cuffs.

Myles immediately knelt at his wife's side. "Beth, sweetheart… no…" He saw blood staining the carpet and gently turned her over onto her back. "Where…?"

Her green eyes were clouded with pain. "My leg, I think."

"Liz?" Brad's panicked voice came over the speakerphone. "Myles? What's going on over there?"

Myles grabbed the phone. "Brad! Are you guys ok?"

Earl was at her other side. "It's just a graze, Liz. Go ahead, Myles, make sure they're ok. I'll take care of her."

Myles nodded and turned back to the conversation. "Brad, Jamie, listen; don't make a move yet, but be ready to get out of there in a hurry. Molly, honey, you too. There are people watching you. Agents are on the way. Just get away from the windows. I'll explain in a few minutes."

Brian looked up from cuffing Kyle none-too-gently, his knee sunk deep into the man's back. "Jack just radioed, Myles. They got the guys. Your sibs can relax. It's clear." He leaned down to hiss in Kyle's ear. "No luck today, you onerous little twit."

Earl had to laugh. "'Onerous twit'? Man, you been hanging out with _nonno_ here for _way_ too long."

James' voice sounded in Myles' ear. "_What is going on_? Was that a gunshot I heard before all the yelling?"

"It's ok, guys. You're ok. They got them." The blond agent tried to steady his shaking hands. "I have to go; Elizabeth's been shot. I'll call you later and explain everything. She's ok, it was just a graze. Please, I have to go."

"You just relax, little brother," Brad said. "We're all going to load up right now and commandeer the company jet. We'll pick up Molly and be there tonight. Where are the girls?"

"At school," Myles sighed gratefully. "Sam and Tara had them last night. They don't know anything about this."

"Jack said Sam went to get them right after you—" Brian paused, looking a little confused. "Um, 'blasted him against the car window'?"

"Never mind," Myles managed a weak smile. "Inside joke. Brad, Sam's gone to get the girls now."

"All right." His older brother's voice was calm. "You just take care of Liz, and we'll be there as soon as we can to help out."

"Thank you." He hung up with a sigh and turned. Brian had already taken Kyle out and turned him over to Jack, and Earl was pressing a dishtowel against Elizabeth's left thigh.

"Ambulance is on its way," the computer tech said as Myles knelt by them again. "Sorry we're late."

"Just so you're here," the blond agent breathed. He stroked his wife's hair back from her face. "Beth, love…"

She smiled up at him, even though her face was pale. "You couldn't just switch jobs quietly, could you?"


	10. Chapter 10: Family Ties

**Chapter 10: Family Ties

* * *

**

_George Washington University Hospital ER_

_Wednesday, 27 October 2018_

_11:00 am

* * *

_

"Myles, I just want to go home." Elizabeth swung her legs stiffly off the exam table. "The girls—"

"—are with Sam and Tara. They're fine." Myles gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, keeping her from getting up completely. "And you're not going anywhere until the doctor says it's okay. Relax, love. It's all over."

"No, not for a little while, it's not," she corrected soberly. "I can't just shake something like this off any better than you can. You've just had more practice working around it. It will be good to have a houseful of people for the next few days, though. That will help."

He nodded; then he suddenly pulled her tightly against his chest. "Dear God… Beth, I thought…" He stopped, unable to finish his thought, and buried his face in her dark hair, his lips pressed to her neck.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "I know," she whispered. "So did I. If it weren't for the team, Sam… we have a lot to be grateful for."

"We do."

They held each other for several minutes, offering silent and whispered prayers. Then she pulled back and smiled up at him. "You know, if you keep calling me that in front of your teammates, somebody's bound to ask for an explanation."

"Just what I was thinking." Brian Rhodes was lounging in the doorway, his hair still disheveled from his wrestle with Kyle, a triumphantly roguish grin lighting his face. "I've never heard you call her anything but 'Elizabeth,' mate. Where'd 'Beth' come from?"

Blond brows shot up. "Your hair may be lighter, but just then I could have sworn Bobby Manning was back from the grave."

"I'll take that as a compliment of the highest caliber." The younger agent pushed off the doorsill and flopped into the chair nearby. "And you aren't going to misdirect me. So spill."

"A true gentleman does not tell tales." Myles assumed his best pretentious expression.

Brian snorted. "Uh-huh."

Elizabeth watched a slow flush creep into her husband's cheeks, and decided to rescue him. "That particular nickname popped up on our honeymoon, Brian, and it's a very private one between us. I think the magnitude of what we faced brought it out, but that's as much information as you're getting."

The look she fixed on him had him laughing as he raised his hands in surrender. "Yes, ma'am," he chuckled. "Still…"

"Brian." Myles' voice was softly firm. "Enough."

Either the tone or the quiet request in the blue-grey eyes made the younger man swallow whatever he'd been planning to say next. "Ok. Hey, this is almost my last chance to get inside your head, Leland. Can't blame a guy for trying." He smiled at Elizabeth. "I don't wonder it took a psychologist to capture his heart all those years ago."

The old teasing subject made Myles laugh softly. "Neither do I," he said, stroking his wife's cheek. Then he looked back at Brian. "So is there some particular _reason_ you're here, or did D rescind your promotion for staging a raid in your argyles?"

Elizabeth giggled. "And very classy argyles they are, too."

"Ok, I'll drop the inquisition if you leave my socks out of it." He sat up and folded his hands across his knees, his dark eyes fixed solemnly on Myles. "I'm sorry we cut it so close," he started.

The Harvard grad shook his head. "I'd rather it be close than too late. Don't apologize, Brian." He tilted a grin at his wife. "I was told once it's bad for our image."

"Besides." Now Earl joined them. "Think of all the fun you're going to have grilling the 'onerous little twit.' Not that we're going to need much in the way of confession. He hasn't stopped talking since we put him in the car."

Myles rolled his eyes. "Kyle Singleton hasn't stopped running his mouth since the day I met him, I'm sure. But I don't have to listen to him any longer, and that's perfectly fine with me." He gripped his wife's hand. "He can't touch us anymore."

Earl tapped the psychologist on the shoulder. "You okay, Liz?"

She nodded, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Just as soon as they let me out of here. And I expect you both to join us tonight."

Myles sighed. "Sweetheart, does the word 'rest' mean _anything_ to you? You were _shot_ less than an hour ago."

"I promise, I won't do anything," she smiled. "I'll just lay on the couch and let you all help yourselves. I simply think we need a good dose of love and laughter in our home tonight, and we can't have that without the Bureau's party animals."

"What about Kendra?" Brian's expression clouded a little.

Elizabeth shrugged. "She's part of the team."

"Not for long." The future unit leader's jaw set. "Not if I have a say in the matter."

"That's your decision," the psychologist replied. "But she's welcome to come, if she feels like it. You might inform her that not only will Rachel be there, but my Deaf sister and Jack's Deaf wife as well. Then she can make her own choice."

* * *

:

* * *

_Leland Residence_

_Wednesday night, 6 p.m._

"You said you were going to _rest_." His voice was stern. "Go back to that sofa and _stay_ there."

"Myles, I slept all afternoon, thanks to the painkiller you made me take. I'm _fine_, just a little stiff." Elizabeth winced as she shifted her position against the counter.

"Busted." He called across the rather crowded room, since his hands were full of shredded cheese. "Brad, Jamie, come get my stubborn wife and return her to her seat, please."

His older brothers appeared from the living room and promptly formed a two-man carry. James Leland chuckled as Elizabeth raised a brow at them. "It's this or over my shoulder, Sis," he challenged. Take your pick."

The psychologist laughed at him. "All right, all right. I give up. But I'm _walking_ back to the sofa."

"Oh, of course." James let go of his brother's hands, but waited only until she was past him before scooping her up in his arms with a gleeful shout. "Way, hey, folks, make way for Lady Liz!"

The house was filled with sound and color; not only had most of the team come over with their families, but the Lelands were there as well, all four siblings and _their _families. James' four boys were scattered across the country, and Brad's son David was in Toronto on business, but everyone else was here, along with Connie Dillingham Collins, her husband Nathan and their sons Logan and Joseph. The two boys were currently in a cutthroat game of _Clue_ with Zachary Hudson.

Sarah was talking with 19-year-old Molly, who was a freshman at Princeton majoring in Criminology; there were hopes that another Leland would be joining the ranks of the Bureau in a few years. The two had been inseparable since Molly had arrived, the older girl taking Sarah under her care and letting her talk while she processed everything.

The girls had never been directly involved, but they were scared all the same, especially when they got home and found their mother had been shot in the leg. Though Myles and Elizabeth had done their best to reassure them, Sarah and Rachel had undoubtedly picked up on the aftermath. They were handling it in character, Sarah losing herself in any kind of physical activity to keep the feelings at bay, and Rachel not letting her father out of her sight for long.

Even now, while the other kids were playing in the living room, Rachel was perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, absently poking at the pizza dough she was supposed to be pressing into the pan. Her eyes would dart up to him every few minutes. She was very quiet.

Myles tapped the counter in front of her. YOU O-KQQ he signed.

She shrugged, struggling to contain the tears brimming in her eyes.

RACHEL, he said, bringing the "r" shape closer to his heart than usual, a way of showing her his feelings. MORNING PAST MOMMY DADDY BOTH SCARED. IF YOU SCARED ALSO, THAT O-K

She nodded. ME KNOW, she answered, but her eyes were still down a little.

"Brian? Could you take over for me, please?" Myles wiped the excess cheese off his hands with a dishtowel. "Just layer the sauce, cheese and toppings twice on each pizza. Then pop them in the oven for about 15 minutes. It's already heated up." He held out his hand to Rachel. YOU-ME TALKQQ he asked.

O-K. She took his hand and hopped off the stool.

He led her away from the crowd, toward the study, but stopped when she pulled back at the door. He knelt and put his arm around her, then reached up with his other hand and switched on the light. SEEQQ NO ONE THERE. ONLY YOU-ME. ROOM QUIET YOU-ME TALK.

Her eyes were wide, and a tear escaped onto her cheek, but she nodded. O-K.

* * *

* * *

Someone on the ERT team had done him a huge favor, Myles had already noticed when he got back from the hospital with Elizabeth. The only evidence that anything unusual had gone on in the room was a scrape on his file drawer where he'd yanked the cuffs across it, and a small hole in the very corner of one wall, out of most sightlines. There was no sign of the blood stain from Elizabeth's wound. _Probably Melanie_, he thought. The ERT supervisor was close friends with both him and his wife, and knew that the girls would have been terrified.

He sat down on the sofa and Rachel climbed into his lap immediately, clinging to him as she'd done earlier in the day while Elizabeth was asleep. He held her tightly, stroking her hair, while she released the tears. When she finally looked up at him again, he signed ASK QUESTION ABOUT TODAY YOU WANTQQ

She started to shake her head, but he continued quickly. QUESTION O-K. TALK O-K.

Rachel looked at him, apparently trying to search his soul, and he nodded gently again. Finally, she signed O-K and moved to sit facing him on the sofa, her legs tucked under her Indian-style. "Talking won't make you more scared?" she asked.

He smiled; that was the longest sentence she'd actually spoken all afternoon. RACHEL NO, he replied. SCARY THINGS WE TALK ABOUT MAKE NOT SCARY. YOU UNDERSTAND?

"I think so." She tilted her head sideways in a gesture so like her mother it caught his heart. "Why did that man want to hurt you? Hurt Mommy and Uncle Brad and everyone?"

Myles sighed. SOMETIMES PEOPLE GET ANGRY WHEN CHOICES THEY MAKE GET THEM IN TROUBLE. BUT THEY THINK, IF THEY HURT PERSON WHO CATCH THEM, MAKE BETTER THEM FEEL BETTER WILL.

"But why did he shoot Mommy? She didn't do anything to him. That's not right."

NO, he replied. K-Y-L-E, HIM HURT MOMMY AND UNCLE B-R-A-D AND EVERYONE HIM THINK HE HURT ME MORE. HE WAS RIGHT.

Her eyes went very wide. "Will he come back and hurt us?"

NO, RACHEL. K-Y-L-E IN JAIL NOW. HIM IN BIG TROUBLE NOW. MOMMY O-K, B-U-L-L-E-T CUT ONLY HER SKIN. HIM NEVER HURT US AGAIN.

"When I get scared I have bad dreams about stuff," she said. "Will you have bad dreams about Kyle?"

MAYBE, he replied. C-A-S-E-S I WORK ON, IN PAST I HAD MANY BAD DREAMS. BRAIN TAKE TIME MUCH THINK THINGS THROUGH WHEN SOMETHING SCARE YOU.

She climbed back into his lap and touched his cheek. "You can come hug me when you have a bad dream, Daddy. You do that for me lots of times."

Myles laughed and hugged her tightly. "I just might do that," he murmured against her hair. Then he pulled back so she could see him. LITTLE WORK ME HAVE, YOU HELP? he asked. SCRAPE WE FIX, AND FIX WALL, MAKE LIKE NOT HAPPEN.

"Sure," she nodded, her eyes a little brighter now. "But how did the drawer get scraped?"

He paused. SURE YOU KNOW WANT? he asked.

She nodded again. "Yes. I'm okay. Will you feel better if you talk, too?"

IF MAKE YOU AFRAID AGAIN, NO.

Rachel fixed a blue-grey gaze on him. "Everybody's safe, Mommy only got a cut, and I want you to feel better."

The simplicity of her statement warmed him all over again. BABY GIRL MY RACHEL MY FRIEND ALSO he signed, struggling to meet her eyes since his own were moist. He knelt by the side of the desk and motioned her beside him. K-Y-L-E TELL DADDY SIT HERE. HIM TIE MY HANDS WITH MY HANDCUFFS ON DRAWER HANDLE. DADDY GET OUT I WORK HARD, SCRAPE DESK FINISH.

"Oh." She didn't ask anything more, though she glanced at the corner where the bullet had entered the wall. "I'm glad we were with Uncle Sam and Aunt Tara."

ME ALSO, PRINCESS. He hugged her once more. "So am I."

* * *

* * *

"Are you two ok?" Elizabeth signed it as she spoke. She was leaning on a pair of crutches as she stood in the doorway to the study. Myles watched her green eyes cloud slightly as she took in the room for the first time since this morning.

He looked at Rachel. "Are we?" he asked.

The eight-year-old nodded. "Yeah," she replied. "We're ok. Daddy just told me how that man Kyle tied him to the desk."

"You did _what_?" Elizabeth's brows drew together. "Myles—"

He held up a hand. "I told her only what she asked about," he clarified, signing as he spoke. "She's afraid, too, sweetheart. Understanding as much as she wants to will help us all heal."

Rachel walked over and looked up at her mother. "Are you still scared, Mommy? Is that why you're mad at Daddy?"

"A little scared, yes," Elizabeth admitted, more gently now. "But I'm not really mad at Daddy. I just don't want _you_ to be scared."

Rachel thought this over. "I was scared today when Uncle Sam showed up at my school early. And when he told us that you were hurt. But it's better now with everyone here. It makes it seem like a long time ago."

"It _is_ better." Elizabeth managed to get seated on the sofa, leaning the crutches on the arm next to her. "We may all still have a few nightmares, though. You can come find us if you need to."

"I know," Rachel responded. "And I told Daddy he could come hug me if he had a bad dream. You can, too." Then she looked up at her father, her head tilted slightly. "We're not canceling the party, are we?"

Myles laughed genuinely. "Not a chance, princess. I think we need as many parties as we can get right now."

"Which reminds me," Elizabeth added, "the whole reason I came looking for you. Brian says the pizza is ready, and if you don't hurry up, he's going to finish off the pepperoni one without you."

"No!" Rachel giggled, and raced out to the kitchen.

Myles held out a hand to help his wife up. "I see you unearthed the crutches from the back of the closet. I wondered how long it would take."

"Brad and Sam adjusted them for me," she replied as she reached for them and slipped them under her arms.

"Well, crutches or not, as soon as dinner is finished, you are bidding 'good night' to your guests and going to bed." He slipped his fingers into her hair and kissed her gently. "Or I am _going_ to sic Tara on you."

The psychologist laughed. "After all I've heard about sparring sessions over the years, I'll go quietly, love." She leaned into the warmth of his hand. "It's good to have our home back."

* * *

* * *

"Elizabeth!"

She turned to find him standing in the bedroom doorway, his hands on his hips and an exasperated expression on his face.

"You were _supposed _to be asleep. The doctor is going to hang me out to dry when I have to drag you back to the ER for exhaustion."

Elizabeth smiled warmly. "I couldn't sleep," she said simply. "And I just got looking through my hope chest, and got a little lost is all. I haven't been exerting myself."

Myles sat down on the foot of their bed and regarded her for a moment. She was sitting in front of the open chest, a few items scattered on the floor around her. "What did you get lost in?" he finally asked.

"Happy memories. What else?" She held up a green silk dress. "Do you remember this?"

He smiled. "How could I possibly forget? It's been too long since we tangoed."

"You know what the best part is?" she queried. "The first thing I remember now when I see this is that wonderful evening you created. The rest has faded to just an incidental. And then the second time I wore it, when I had those body jewels on my shoulder…"

"You were utterly breathtaking," he murmured. Then he suddenly moved down to sit next to her. "What else have you kept all these years?"

Her dark brows rose in surprise. "You've never really been into mementos. Why the sudden interest?"

"Like you said," he shrugged, "happy memories. The girls are asleep, Brad, Kim and Molly are sacked out in the living room, everyone else has gone home for the evening. Besides, I'm curious to see what has meant the most to you."

She stretched a little, grimacing as her left leg shifted. She caught his concerned gaze and waved off the comment. "I'm ok. It will be very stiff for a couple of days, I know, but I'm all right. If I don't stretch it at all, it'll take longer to recover."

"Here." He pulled over the footstool that went with the small armchair that still graced their bedside. "This will make it easier for you to reach things." He took a moment to help her get seated without too much movement.

"Thank you, love." She caught his cheek before he sat down again and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips. "You're good for me, you know that?"

He laughed softly; the question brought back memories from when they'd been first dating. "Not half as good as you are for me," he whispered back.

Elizabeth smiled brightly and pushed aside a baby blanket in the chest, then pulled out a red silk rose. "How about this?" she asked.

"I remember that," he replied. "I gave it to Sarah on her first Valentine's day. I'd planned to do that every year until she was twelve, then surprise her with a dozen real ones. How did I forget?"

"I think you gave up on the idea when she tried to eat them," his wife giggled. "You walked in one night to find her surrounded by silk petals, with a stem halfway down her throat."

"Ah, yes. And we could never get them out of her reach. I remember we certainly _tried_." He noticed something sparkling under a shawl he knew was her grandmother's, and pulled it out. "Oh, love," he breathed. "I will never forget how beautiful you looked in this." He moved to kneel beside her and placed the tiara with its long veil on her head. "Even our wedding photos can't do it justice."

Her cheeks colored even as she smiled. "You know, your mother told me something that day that I've never forgotten. She said that if I wanted to know how you see me, all I had to do was look at my reflection on our wedding day. She said _that_ was the vision you have always had of me."

"She was right." He gently removed the veil, folding it back like she'd had, and laid it on the bed. "What's this?" He held up a small leather-bound book.

"Open it."

He did, and flipped to the spot where she had a ribbon marking the place. "This is _Poems of 1850_ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning," he said. "Is this your favorite of her poems?"

"It's special to me." She reached to touch his cheek again, and recited very softly, "_Unless you can think, when the song is done/No other is soft in the rhythm;/ Unless you can feel, when left by One/That all men else go with him;/ Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath/ That your beauty itself wants proving;/ Unless you can swear "For life, for death!" -/ Oh, fear to call it loving!_"

His eyes widened. "The hospital— you quoted that to me when I chewed you out for being in the room with me…"

"When I though I was going to lose you," she finished, stroking his cheek gently. "The first time. That poem has sustained me through a lot more than Ebola, believe me."

"I still have the Knight's Code framed on my desk," he said quietly. "It became a bit of a theme for us, the whole team, for quite awhile. Bobby in particular liked the idea of slaying dragons."

They spent almost an hour, going through things, reliving moments that had shaped their lives in one form or another. Courtship, marriage, parenthood… all of it bound together with love, respect, humor, and shared emotion.

Finally, Myles lifted one last box from the chest. It was a flat box, plain white, and she'd written in the corner of the lid, **_All my dreams_**. He lifted the lid, and drew in a breath, then looked up into her emerald eyes. "You saved them all?" The baritone voice shook a little.

She nodded, her eyes luminous. "Every letter. I wish I had your gift for words, love."

He thumbed down through them idly, love letters he'd written her on anniversaries, other holidays, a few when he was on an extended undercover assignment; then his brows raised as he pulled out a folded sheet of silver wrapping paper, complete with a sheer ribbon and a spray of long-dried white roses. "Your shower gift," he whispered.

"Yes. And the beautiful letter you wrote me for that night." She pulled it out of the envelope; the letter was dog-eared and split along the folds in a few places. Her voice was soft as she read: "'My beloved Elizabeth, As I sit in my study and write this, I see your face before me and long for the hours to hasten their journey until we meet at the altar and vow before God Almighty to cherish each other for all our lives. I have often taken pride in my gift of words, but find now that I struggle to put in prose the feelings that are entwined around my heart and soul. That I love you with all that I am is something I hope you will never have reason to doubt, and that I promise to do my utmost to make you happy is something I hope you will always know by my actions.'"

She handed the letter to him; he took it, his hands shaking a little, and picked up where she had left off. "'I have never loved easily; perhaps I had seen too much in my course of duty to truly believe there were still guileless souls in this world, certainly over the age of ten. Yet, when I drown in the emerald depths of your eyes, I see all that is good and pure in this world, and I yearn ever to protect it still. That gift alone would make me love you, but you are so much more, so much that I have thirsted for without realizing it. You are the completion of my soul, the sole keeper of the key to my heart, and the greatest treasure I could ever hold in my arms.'"

His voice broke slightly as he continued. "'That you have retained until marriage something so precious that so many others give away without thought leaves me in awe; it grieves me that I cannot meet your gift with an equal one. Yet I know you would tell me to not dwell on the past, so I offer this in its stead: my truest fidelity from this point forward. My heart, my body, my soul are yours alone, and have been since the day I met you.

"'My dearest, we have faced so much already, and still we stand together; the future glows brightly before us, for if we have braved this much and triumphed, the trials of every day seem pale and small in their shadows. To you I vow this evening, and all the days of our lives, to fight each fight, grand or small, with the same fervor and dedication to the cause of peace and our love that you have shown me.

"'Dream of me tonight as you sleep wrapped in the purity of my love for you; I know I will dream of you and all that awaits us, beginning tomorrow. Ever your love, Myles.'"

Tears were shining on her cheeks, and she let her fingers drift into the gold of his hair. "You are all my dreams, Myles Leland," she whispered, "and always will be."

He took her hand, pressing a kiss into her palm. "I love you, Elizabeth. More than I ever could have imagined all those years ago."

It took a few minutes to put everything back into the chest, and then for him to help her get ready for bed, but soon she was snuggled against him, the warmth of her skin mingled with his own. Myles leaned his cheek against her hair. "It's not been an easy road," he murmured in her ear, "But I can honestly say I have loved every day of our lives."

"So have I," she replied. "Because we've lived them together."


	11. Chapter 11: Last and First

**Chapter 11: Last and First

* * *

**

_Leland Residence, Adams-Morgan_

_Thursday, 28 October 2018_

_7 a.m.

* * *

_

"Please don't argue with me, love. I already called Dan, and he's not expecting you until this afternoon." Myles picked up the last of the breakfast dishes and put them in the dishwasher. "Molly's taking the girls to school, and the ever-efficient Leland brothers are double-checking on the details for tomorrow night. All you have to do this morning is relax."

"Myles, I don't want to be alone in this house today." Elizabeth threw her napkin into the basket, now emptied of Kim Leland's famous blueberry crunch muffins. "It's too quiet and it's too soon."

"That's the beauty of it." He sat down next to her and took her hand. "Kim's on her way to pick up Pam and Connie at Sam's house, and they're all coming back here. You won't be alone, and you can girl-talk to your heart's content."

She smiled suddenly. "How about you just stay home?" She toyed with the wave of gold at the front of his hair, fringing it over his eyes a little. "You were a wonderful help this morning with my shower."

Myles gave her a warmly exasperated look. "But I'm no good at girl talk," he quipped. "Besides, how would it look if I came in late on my next-to-last day? Mess up my perfect record— the guys would tease me unmercifully."

"Oh, we can't have that." She ran one finger down over his ear and neck, then around to trace his tie down his chest. "You sure you don't want to take a risk?"

He smiled, reaching up to squeeze her shoulder. "Beth," he said softly, "you've always asked me to help you stand on your own. What's the phrase you always throw at me? 'I need to be strong on my own before I can be strong with you'? You _have_ to face this, and I _have_ to go in today. I missed both a meeting with the Director and taking Earl and Brian to meet my snitches. I need to do both before we can turn the page."

"I know." She leaned over and kissed him. "I was only half-serious about you staying home. Go get done what you need to. I'll be fine. I need to stretch out my leg anyway, and I'll probably crank the stereo while I'm doing it just to have the noise going."

Myles chuckled. "You know the entire clan will be over here again tonight. If it were me, I'd enjoy the peace and quiet while I could."

* * *

:

* * *

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Thursday, 8 a.m._

"You can't do this!"

Myles stepped out of the elevator to raised voices echoing from the Bullpen. _Life goes on, _he thought with a half-smirk.

He'd almost reached the doorway when a voice called from behind. "Hey, Myles!"

"Miss Thomas," he replied after he'd turned, just for the fun of it— Sue hadn't been "Miss Thomas" for nearly 12 years. "What brings you down to these hallowed halls so early? I thought you were breaking in a new team of eagle eyes."

Sue grinned at him. "Jack's mom called after he left this morning; they'll be at the airport here at 5:30. I figured it was easier to post the sticky note on his computer than to assume he would." She glanced around at the expressions of people walking past, who all seemed to be glancing into the Bullpen as they went by. "What's going on?"

NO IDEA ME HAVE, he signed. WORLD WAR 3 SOUND LIKE, AND US NOT IN THERE.

She laughed. "It _has_ been awhile since you and I were on opposite sides of a debate, hasn't it? I miss it sometimes."

SAME-SAME, he replied, then resorted to speech for clarity. "You kept me thinking, always making me defend myself. Even after you took the internship director position, I would find myself working a case and hear your voice in my head, presenting a totally opposite point of view. It's helped a lot over the years. Thank you."

Sue smiled and patted his arm. "You made sure I did my homework. Presenting an opinion was never easy with you around. But I always knew I had it worked out in my head by the time I said it, because I knew you'd lace into the smallest details. So the THANK-YOU," she signed it as well, "is mutual. Shall we go see if anyone needs rescuing?"

AFTER YOU, he signed with a grand flourish.

* * *

They walked in to find Brian Rhodes perched on the center desk, his arms folded tightly across his chest, watching quietly as Kendra Phillips balled up her fists and punched the filing cabinet. It was obvious that only a split-second thought had prevented her from punching Jack instead.

"I busted my tail for sixteen weeks at Quantico to finish top of my class!" The redhead rounded on him again. "That means I get to train _here_! At Headquarters! Not at some back-hole field office in Little Rock! You can't do this to me, Hudson!"

Jack's eyes were like stone, but his voice was very even. "Actually,_ I'm_ not doing it to you, Kendra. Because I'm going to a different assignment, I am no longer able to train you as a field agent."

Kendra whirled to face Brian. "Then I see I have _you_ to thank for this."

"That's right," the new unit leader snapped. "For six months I've watched Jack try to impress upon you the need, not only for investigative and forensic skills, but also for _teamwork_ and a subtlety you have no idea how to pull up. You are not only rude and unnecessarily condescending to witnesses and suspects, but to your co-workers as well. Agent Hudson put up with it; I won't. No one in this unit wants to train you; in fact, and I did ask around, no one in this _building_ wants to train you until you learn to rein in that attitude of yours. Maybe spending the rest of your probationary period 'out of the spotlight,' so to speak, will teach you some manners."

Sue tapped Myles on the shoulder; making sure the rest couldn't see, she grinned and signed LUCKY YOU B-R-I-A-N NOT UNIT LEADER WHEN YOU JOIN. NOT FINISH 1 WEEK.

HAHA, he replied. FUNNY YOU.

"I'll go over your head, Rhodes, so fast you'll have my boot prints on your smug face!" Kendra was livid. "You can't just kick me out of here!"

"No, you won't, and yes, I can." The auburn-haired agent didn't even blink. "I already checked your performance reviews from Quantico and while you've been here. I went all the way up the ladder. You will not find _one_ sympathetic ear at Hoover. You will finish out today and then you will make your arrangements this weekend. You are expected in the Little Rock office at 8 a.m. Monday morning."

"The hell I'll 'finish out today'!" Kendra shouted. She turned, grabbed her purse off her desk and rammed into Myles before he could move out of the doorway, then whirled back around. "Not under you, Rhodes, that's for sure! This place is a circus— next you'll have Hudson's deaf wife leading a unit! Is this the FBI or the freakin' Special Olympics?"

"Excuse me." The Harvard grad grabbed the redhead by one arm and stopped her dramatic exit, his eyes glacial at both her attitude and the memory she'd slapped him with. "I believe you owe someone an apology." He beckoned toward Sue, who stepped out from behind him, her dark eyes far more inflamed than they had been twelve years ago when a similar comment was made. "Allow me to introduce, Sue Thomas Hudson, who heads up the Special Surveillance Internship Program here _at Headquarters_."

Kendra snorted. "Ah, yes, if it isn't the High-and-Mighty Mrs. Hudson. I can't get through a single day around here without hearing about _you_, super deaf woman! No doubt you've been making the world safe for deaf people everywhere. Including 'soccer Dad' here's little silent princess. It honestly makes one wonder just _what_ type of hold you had over all these men when you were with this group. Soaking in their pity, I'm sure. Or did it have more to do with batting your eyes and sashaying your hips that got you in and up the ladder?"

Two lightning movements froze the moment; Earl grabbed hold of Jack, who had lunged, and Sue stopped the open hand Myles had halfway to Kendra's face.

Jack growled, "You better hold on tight, Earl, because I swear... if I get within two feet of her, she's going to be seeing next week backwards."

Myles wasn't any calmer, but Sue stepped in front of him before he could say anything. "Excuse me Kendra, but can we chat over here please?" She took hold of Kendra's arm leading her over to an empty area of the room. Kendra tried to wrench her arm away, but Sue was having none of it. Apparently having a 9-year-old son had improved her grip.

"What the hell is she doing?" Myles had stepped over to where Earl still had hold of Jack.

Jack sighed. "I don't know, but you know Sue. Can't stand to have anyone else fight her battles."

"Not to worry, gents." Brian motioned them over to where he still perched calmly on the edge of his desk. "I can lip-read, too," he reminded them with a wicked grin. He adjusted his hearing aids down so he could concentrate.

"Listen," Kendra started. Then she sneered, "Oh, right, you _can't_ listen."

Sue stopped her before any more words fell from her lips. "Well, actually I _can_ listen, Kendra. I just _listen_ differently than others. But that's not the issue here, now is it?" She paused only for a brief second. "Your prejudice has really overstepped the boundaries this time, with your comments. I honestly don't know what your problem is with people with a hearing problem...but you need to cool it, right this very minute. Any one of them, or myself, could file a discrimination report against you and OPR would have you riding a desk so fast your head would be spinning."

Turquoise eyes narrowed. "I'd like to see you try it. You think you're so damn smart..."

"No, Kendra, I just have fifteen years experience of learning the ropes myself." Sue sighed. "I know; believe me, I honestly know that you feel the need to prove yourself to the men in here, but you really don't, so long as you do your job and can be a team player."

"I don't have to prove anything to anyone, least of all these guys!" Kendra snapped. "Bull—"

"Pull?" Sue replied, unsure of exactly what Kendra said.

"See, you even get a simple word wrong," the agent shot back.

Sue grinned. "Maybe, but that's what being a team player is all about. The others in this unit have learned, as we all have, to help one another out when help is needed, whether it's helping me understand what someone is saying or knocking someone out of the path of a bullet. I used to be very stubborn and tried to go off and solve issues on my own, wanting to prove myself, especially to Myles. Until we _all_ learned to work together. I just pray that in your next assignment you'll remember what I've said and learn to be a good team player, and you just _might_ keep your career at the Bureau."

"Yeah, whatever," came the retort as she started to walk away.

Sue grabbed her arm, a devilish grin dancing over her lips. "Just for the record, Kendra, Myles was so angry to have me here in the first place that 'sashaying my hips,' as you so delicately put it, wouldn't have made a bit of difference." She leaned in and met the cold eyes directly. "Deaf people can do everything a hearing person can do, except hear. Rachel, Brian and myself are no different than you. Just remember that as well. Accidents, illnesses happen. You might _be_ one of us one day."

Kendra jerked her arm from Sue's grip, glowering at themen again as she passed by and stormed out of the room, muttering something that none of them could understand.

Sue approached the desk where the men were gathered. "Did you get all that?" she asked Brian, her eyes twinkling.

"You trained me well, 'Teach,'" Brian replied, grinning. "And you handled that far more gracefully than I would have."

"And how do you know it wouldn't have made a difference?" Myles teased. "I may have been a complete jerk, but I was never blind." He ducked as Jack tried to backhand him. "Hey, I can get away with comments like that now— _Sparky_," the Harvard grad grinned. "I'm happily married, and more afraid of my wife and yours than I ever was of you."

Sue laughed with the rest of them. "By the way— does Kendra know that the Little Rock office has _two_ of our interns and has just requested a third?"

"No," Brian replied quietly, "and thank you for reminding me. I'll warn them what's coming."

* * *

* * *

The rest of the day was quiet— almost _too_ quiet, given that the day before his adrenalin level had been running at warp speed. Myles made it to his meeting with the Director, and his snitches all saw the wisdom of continuing their relationship with the Bureau. Brian and Ed had pretty much divided them up evenly.

He was at his desk, making notes for several open cases so that he could pass them on without too much difficulty, when he heard a voice that had, forever it seemed, evoked a mixture of amusement and the urge to pull out his firearm.

"Hey, hey, watch the leather...it's real, ya know. Coming through. I have a special delivery for one Myles Leland the Third."

He suppressed the urge to slide under his desk and hide until he had a clear shot. Instead, he tried not to look overly alarmed. "Me? Don't you generally deliver things to Jack?"

"Heh, yeah, but I figured since this was your last day, I'd make an exception." Howie Fines did a snakey little move inside his jacket, one he'd always thought was cool. "As you know, Otis and I parted ways awhile back, but we've never forgotten how you guys watched out for us."

"Watched out for" wasn't necessarily how Myles would have phrased it; "endured to the limits of our patience" was more like it. Still, Howie Fines had gone from two-bit con artist to one of the slickest founts of information the Bureau had ever known. In the fifteen years Myles had known him, the snitch had never failed the team when it came to weaseling the latest street talk from whatever sources he needed to. Pairing up with Otis Washington had merely expanded the deal.

Otis had decided, about five years back, to take the little nest egg he'd been saving from his _legal_ ventures and informant stipends and open a restaurant. As far from Howie as he could get, the joke around the office was. Word had it that business was booming in Houston, and occasionally a review would pop up online with nothing but kudos for the big man.

Howie continued in the trades he knew best, small-time shady dealings that were carefully overlooked (and over_seen_, to make sure he didn't get too carried away) in the interest of keeping his reputation as _the_ entrepreneur to have in your network. _By now_, Myles thought with a smirk, _the street crowd of DC probably looks to him as the "Godfather of Foggy Bottom."_

Still, the Harvard grad decided it was in his best interest to _not_ remind the snitch he would be here tomorrow as well. "You've repaid us a hundredfold, Howie," he said smoothly. "Further gratitude really isn't—"

"Oh, but it is. See, me an' Otis, we made a deal, long time back. Me an' him and Agent Manning, God rest his soul. We decided to save up and buy you a little going-out-of-business gift." The little man waited expectantly for a comment. When he received only a stare, he went on. "Otis an' me, we ain't high falutin' like you, but we respect that. And Bobby did, too. So, we finally saved enough ta get you this." He whipped out a box with outlandish wrapping paper around it. "Go ahead. Open it."

Myles was very glad he'd made his peace with Bobby earlier in the week; otherwise, he probably wouldn't have been able to take the box from Howie at all. As it was, he had to fight to keep his hands from trembling. "_Bobby_ was in on this?" He managed to keep his voice steady. Heads were up all over the Bullpen now, Jack's in particular.

The snitch nodded emphatically. "It was his idea, yeah. He put in the first contribution and told both of us, 'No bargaining with this piece.' Made us swear."

Myles started to open the package, but his eyes were still on Howie. "Why _me_? Jack was his best friend. Shouldn't this be for him?"

Howie cut a glance at Jack, and then at the box. "_This_ was for you," he insisted soberly, an uncharacteristic moment. "He made us swear." He looked over at the dark-haired agent again. "I guess maybe he figured he'd said all he needed to say with Jack."

"Might want to check and make sure it's not ticking," Brian quipped from his desk, his eyes drifting back to his report, mostly to hide the grin forming.

Myles wrinkled his nose at the younger agent, then let the paper fall away finally. A plain white box offered no clues. He lifted the lid, and stared quietly at the contents, stunned; he wasn't sure he could have spoken if he'd tried.

Howie scowled at the younger man and watched Myles closely. "You like it? Bobby picked it out. He said it was the real deal. It's white gold, the best one they had..." He picked up the Rolex watch and undid the clasp. "See here? We had it engraved and everything, just like he told us to."

With great care, the little man turned the watch over. Clearing his voice, he read, "'Brothers in Arms.' He picked that. I thought it was kinda cool, even then. You know, the whole knights thing and all. I..." His voice trailed off.

Myles gently took the watch from the snitch, staring at it for a very long moment. The Bullpen was silent; even Patricia, who had never known Bobby, seemed to realize the importance of what was happening.

After a moment, the blond agent looked up at the snitch again. "Howie," he said, his voice not as steady as he'd have liked it, "I need to ask. _Why_ would… I mean…?" He wasn't sure he knew how to phrase what he was trying to ask.

The little man shrugged. "He was always doing stuff like that. Besides, it gave me and Otis a chance to do something bigger than ourselves. We figured if Bobby could put up with you, then this was the least we could do."

The quip, delivered deadpan as only Howie could, broke the spell that had woven itself around the office, and several chuckles broke out. Myles couldn't help but smile; it would be just like Bobby to put the fear of whatever into the snitch and his partner for something like this, even ten years in the making. He held up the watch again, this time letting its weight remind him of family ties forged in the most unusual places over the years. "Thank you," he said at last. "It's a beautiful watch."

"Okay, now that that's done, do you need me for anything while I'm here? Any training for the new guys? 'How to Talk to Your Snitch?' 'Man on the Street?'" He looked hopeful.

Jack hid behind his monitor, stifling a groan. Myles, on the other hand, laid the watch down on his desk and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, clasping his hands behind his head. "You know, Howie, that actually doesn't sound like a half-bad idea."

The snitch's jaw dropped. "You...you mean it? Cuz, I got lots of free time right now. Or I could be free whenever is a good time for you guys. Anything for my country, right?"

"Well, it's going to take me a couple of weeks to figure out what's going on in my classes, and set up a lesson plan, but I really do think it would be educational." Myles grinned. "What would be a better way of training rookies to deal with their snitches than by introducing them to _you_?"

* * *

:

* * *

_Leland Residence, Adams-Morgan_

_Thursday, 7 pm_

"Tell me again why it is that we have the house to ourselves tonight." Myles was stretched out in front of the fireplace, his head pillowed in his wife's lap. An extra cushion protected her left leg.

"Pam and Connie decided the girls could use their own party, so they got everyone together and headed for the roller rink," Elizabeth replied softly, running her fingers through his hair. "Sue even took Zachary. And Kim left dinner warming, so I haven't had to do a thing all day. Dan called at noon and told me my appointments were covered."

Brad's wife, Kim, was a gourmet cook, which she'd passed on to James' wife as well. Between Kim's minestrone and Pam's herb bread, they'd dined quite handsomely. Connie had added her touch by making her killer tiramisu.

Now, the kitchen was clean, the fire was roaring, and the house felt like home again; Myles had felt it the moment he walked in the door. Elizabeth was far more relaxed than she'd been that morning, to the point that he found her dusting in the study and had to make her go sit down while he finished warming dinner.

"The girls decide what they're doing for Halloween yet?" he asked softly, letting himself relax into her touch.

His wife nodded. "Rachel is going to be a cowgirl, and Sarah is going as Shrimp Lo Mein."

"Excuse me?"

She laughed at his double-take. "She found a pattern for a costume that is a Chinese take-out box. Toss in a few sections of cut up pink swim noodle, a couple of skeins of white yarn, and _poof_! Shrimp Lo Mien."

"You do realize our eldest has been hanging out with my twin _far_ too much, right?" He had to chuckle. "There was one year, before all the mess with Matthews, that Sam decided he wanted us to dress up as a bowl of Wheaties and bananas."

Now Elizabeth was laughing fully. "Which did you end up being? And where have you since hidden the photograph of it?"

"I am saying _nothing_ further," he teased.

"Oh?" She let her fingers trail down to the very base of his neck, and traced small figure-eights there while she pressed a long, slow kiss to his lips. "Are you _sure_ about that?"

A sound somewhere between a groan and a contented purr escaped the back of his throat. "Mmmh, I am _so_ glad you're on our side and went with the Bureau instead of the KGB."

She smiled mischievously and whispered in his ear, "Vat makes you tink I have not svitched sides now?"

He reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair, drawing her face close to his. "_Potomóo shtá, myó dorogóye praveetelstva. Rosseé kniegh smoglów posvolýat któ-ta eey vásheva eskóostva_," he replied in Russian. "Because, my dear, the Russian government could no longer afford someone of your skill."

She swatted at him affectionately. "I should take that as an insult. But you're fortunate I understood what you really meant." She paused to look again at the white-gold watch on his wrist. "This is so beautiful. That was really nice of Howie to follow through on Bobby's idea."

Myles shook his head yet again at the gift. "I know. It blew me away when I opened it." He lay back on her lap again. "This is really happening. I have _one day_ left as an FBI field agent."

"And, knowing you, you will find a way to go out in a blaze of glory," she quipped.

He looked up at her at that, then rolled to a sitting position facing her, their legs touching, and took her face in his hands. "No," he said softly. "I will be just as happy if _nothing _earth-shattering happens tomorrow. I'm all right now. I _want_ this change." He kissed her softly at the corner of her mouth. "I want to be home with you. You've had to put up with so much over the years; plans getting canceled at the last minute, my not being there for too many important things…" A smirk lit his face. "Romantic evenings that got finished much faster than we'd planned."

She laughed gently. "I was often tempted to ask Brian and Jack if they had some sixth sense about that."

"Marry an agent, gain a permanent entourage." Myles kissed her again, not needing to push things further, simply content to taste her lips and drown in the love they'd treasured and nurtured for more than a decade.

After a few minutes, she sighed against his mouth. "I almost wish tonight were going to be a sleepover as well," she murmured, "but I know we need to be together as a family tonight."

"When _is_ the last time we spent the night in front of the fireplace?"

Elizabeth laughed softly again. "The night before we switched Sarah over to her toddler bed. We haven't dared since then."

"Ten years…" He grinned as he lay back, pulling her down on top of him. "That's too long."

She smiled as she toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "I don't think we want to take the chance tonight, love," she said. "I'm really not sure how long they're going to be. Do you _really _want to gamble, when it's our girls, your brothers and their wives who will be walking through that door?"

"Hmm. Good point." Still, he speared his hands into her ebony hair and kissed her deeply. "We'll just table that thought until things calm down. But I definitely think another sleepover is in order soon."

* * *

* * *

_9 p.m._

"Dad?"

Myles turned from the door of the girls' room. "Yes, Sarah?"

"You'll be able to read to us every night now, won't you?"

He returned to the bunks and sat down on the bottom one. "That's right," he said, signing TRUE at the same time for Rachel, who was dangling her head down from the top bunk. "You think you two can handle that?"

"Oh yes!" Rachel flung her arms around his neck, flipping down into his arms as she did.

He laughed as she landed, knocking his wind out slightly. "You keep doing that, princess," he spoke and signed, "and neither of us will last long enough to read much more."

Within minutes, both girls were convulsed with giggles as a colossal tickle-war ensued; they'd learned to double-team him, so he got as good as he gave.

"Myles Robert, what _are_ you doing?" Elizabeth appeared in the doorway.

"Uh-oh." Three voices chorused it together.

"I think we're in trouble," Myles whispered, signing it at the same time.

His eldest grinned. "Just kiss her, Dad. That's how you usually fix it."

"Sarah Anne!" Elizabeth gasped. Then she advanced on them, her green eyes stern. "You were _supposed_ to be settling them down, Myles, not winding them up." She leveled a finger at him as he started to get to his feet. "Oh, no. It's not going to work this time."

"What?" he replied innocently. "I wouldn't _dream_ of swaying Mom with a kiss." Then he grinned as he grabbed her shoulders and swung her onto Sarah's bunk. The girls giggled again as he pinned her down, being extra careful of her leg. "Not when the 'tickle trio' can do a much better job."

"Myles!" But it was too late; both girls pounced on her and soon everyone was laughing. Bedtime was pushed back considerably.

* * *

* * *

_10:30 p.m._

"You are incorrigible," she said, pulling her nightshirt over her head. "Is _this_ what I have to look forward to now that you'll be home almost every night?"

"Yup," he smirked, his blue eyes twinkling as he removed his shoes. "Still want me to take the job?"

Elizabeth waited until he'd turned his back as he placed his shoes at his bedside; then she walked quietly over to her side and tackled him, laughing as she pinned his shoulders down against the pillow. "Yes," she purred. "Because it means I also can look forward to other things as well."

"You're going to strain your leg," he warned, grinning.

"Oh? You thought I meant _that_?" she quipped. "I meant that I can retaliate for you keeping the girls awake half the night." She poked him in the ribs.

"Hey!" Laughing, he flipped her over and started to tickle her mercilessly. Only when she was gasping his name to stop did he let her go, pulling her close against him instead.

"I love you so much, Beth," he whispered in her ear. "Thank you for letting me pursue my dream for so long."

She smiled. "It's who you are, Myles," she replied softly. "And I've never wanted to change who you are."

"But you have." He kissed her again. "You and the girls have changed me, into a far better man than I was by myself. Now I _want_ to give you as much; a partner who won't be risking his life— _our_ life on a regular basis. It's time to turn the page."


	12. Chapter 12: We've Loved These Days

**Chapter 12: We've Loved These Days

* * *

**

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Friday, 29 October 2018_

_5 p.m._

As predicted, the last day was routine, with no "doom cases" in the mix. D had taken the whole unit out to lunch, where they'd spent a wonderful hour reminiscing cases, office shenanigans, and friendships. Brian had summed it up nicely when they'd asked him, as the new unit leader, to offer a toast: "We've loved these days."

Myles looked around the Bullpen now, as he picked up the Senior Speakers trophy from his desk; it was very unusual for an agent to have stayed in the same office for 15 years, but he was glad for it. When he looked back to the man he had been, and then at the man he was now, the realization that most of the changes would not have happened if he'd been elsewhere, with other people, hit him hard.

"Not easy saying goodbye, is it?" Dimitrius Gans leaned against the doorway, his hands in his pockets. "But you're going to be a great asset across the river."

"I never thought this day would really come." Myles ran his hand over the file cabinet, the "Closed" sticker pasted on it worn but still vivid. "You made it look easy, my friend. You slid right into Supervisor without much fanfare or stress."

"Yeah, but I had six months to get used to the idea while I was Acting Supervisor," the older man replied, "and I was still in the loop. The only difference was now I was the mouse _running_ that loop."

The Harvard grad chuckled. "And there were days I suspect you would have been more than happy to run the rest of us over with it."

"A few." D walked over and sat down in what had been Bobby's, then Brian's, chair. "Brian's already been in to tell me he'd rather keep you two around than try to find replacements. Lot of candidates, but none he's jumped at yet. I think it'll be easier once you and Jack are officially at the Academy."

"He's a good agent. Bobby trained him well, but then he flew on his own." Myles dropped into his own chair, leaning back and clasping his hands behind his head as he propped his feet on the desk. "He deserved his own unit years ago."

"He stayed for the same reason you did," D replied. "You felt you had more to learn here. And, looking back now, I can't say you were wrong. But you need the change now, maybe more than he does. Your experience is invaluable, Myles, to the kids who are coming up. You _need_ to pass the torch and teach every cadet the things you've learned here. And I know you'll find a way to get everyone of them to listen, to some degree."

"Tactics and Strategy… Business Law… Suspect Analysis…" Myles stared at the ceiling briefly. "I have to admit, it's starting to sound far more exciting than I'd thought it would."

"Get you in front of a class, get them involved in a brainstorm session or a scenario, and you'll be in heaven." D toyed with Brian's ever-present string of paper clips. "Even better when you can take them into a field scenario and watch your lessons take root."

Myles' gaze snapped back to him. "How do you know all this stuff? You've never taught."

The older man grinned. "How are your range scores?"

"Oh. That." He grinned as well, a bit warily. "I'm going to walk into that party tonight and find that you saved a target dummy, aren't I?"

D laughed. "No. Though now that you mention it, I wish I had. You were strung so tight that day on the range. But I'd hung around enough that day, and been in a couple of your Hogan's Alley scenarios, to see the potential for a good agent. You just had to get over that last hurdle."

Now he stood. "This place will always be special, Myles. But you have another hurdle waiting for you. Just remember what got you here."

"Front sight, easy trigger, follow through." Myles reached out to shake his hand. "Thank you, D. For everything."

* * *

* * *

_Leland Residence, Adams-Morgan_

_Friday, 6 p.m._

"Stop fussing, Myles." Elizabeth walked over to the dresser and turned her husband away from the mirror. She ran her hands down over his grey suspenders, then smoothed out his tie. "You'd think this was a medal ceremony at the White House. It's just dinner with friends and family, and a little fun afterward."

"'A little fun,' she says," he quipped, though it came out only half-amused. "Sam and I used to watch the Dean Martin roasts, you know. He's well-versed."

The psychologist laughed. "Well, he's not running the show, love, so you have less to worry about. Just relax and enjoy yourself. It's not every day you celebrate your silver anniversary with the FBI."

Myles pulled her into his arms. "True," he conceded, teasing a tendril of ebony hair out of the elegant twist she'd put up a few minutes ago and curling it around his finger, "but I have this feeling that Jack isn't going to be the one getting the lion's share of 'roasting' tonight."

"You never know." She smiled and kissed him slowly, then pulled back with a sigh. "Time to get going. The girls are all ready, or _were_ before I came looking for you."

He picked up his jacket from the bed and put it on, then entertained her with a comic pirouette. ME LOOK HOWQQ he signed.

Elizabeth laughed. BEAUTIFUL VERY YOU, she replied. ALWAYS SAME-SAME.

* * *

* * *

_District ChopHouse & Brewery, just off the Mall_

_Friday, 7 p.m._

_The District ChopHouse & Brewery_ was Washington D.C.'s premier steakhouse; located within walking or metro distance of practically every Federal agency building, it boasted more "who's who" names than the Oscars, at least as far as the political movers and shakers.

Sam Leland's name by itself may not have been enough to guarantee them first crack at the banquet facilities, but when you added in the rest of the Leland clan, well-respected in the finance circles, and David Dillingham's granddaughter (her grandfather had been appointed head of the CDC for the last five years of his life, and was a familiar face on the Hill), it was pretty much a given.

Rachel and Sarah's eyes were like saucers, and they couldn't turn their heads fast enough as the family walked into the old building. The restaurant had once housed Washington's Second National Bank, and a little historic interest enhanced the casual elegance reminiscent of the 1940's. Big band jazz, swing and nostalgia favorites played in the background.

"Well." Myles raised a brow at his wife. "Nothing like going out in style. Which senator got his lobbyist luncheon ousted in the name of the FBI?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Sam wouldn't tell me."

The maître'd checked their names against a rather lengthy guest list, then led them downstairs. Sarah suddenly turned to her mother, her expression puzzled. "We're eating in the basement?" she asked, signing it at the same time.

WHYQQ Myles replied, smiling at her. WRONG WHATQQ

"But—" She tilted her head as she looked up at him, her blonde ponytail swinging as she did. Then her eyes narrowed. "Ok, what's going on?"

He laughed. "How would you like to have the party in a for-real bank vault?"

"A what?" Rachel asked.

B-A-N-K-V-A-U-L-T, he fingerspelled, then continued to sign as he spoke. "Not the actual vault itself, but one of the banquet rooms is the old vault room. There's still a smaller vault there, along with a lot of ledgers from the 1940's. That's how they kept track of everyone's money before computers were invented."

"Oh," Rachel replied. "Cool."

There was a murmur of voices coming from the banquet room; the maître'd motioned them toward the area and wished them a good evening. Myles was about to lead the girls in when Jack Hudson appeared in the doorway.

"Myles." Brown eyes showed a combination of laughter and warning. "Let's get out of here before these crazy people get hold of us."

The Harvard grad couldn't help but laugh at his former unit leader's expression. "That bad?"

"You have _no_ idea."

Elizabeth gently took them each by the arm as the girls giggled. "Gentlemen, whatever shenanigans have been planned are for your benefit; you are not allowed to escape. Let's go."

* * *

* * *

Rachel's eyes widened, and she swung around. DADDYQQ she signed, a smile twitching at her mouth.

Myles glanced up to where she'd been looking and suppressed a groan. "I'll get even with you for this," he murmured in his wife's ear.

"It wasn't me who brought it up," Elizabeth smiled. "Nor was this my idea. Sam just needed to be reminded."

In addition to the banquet tables and the sumptuous buffet, there were blow-ups of several photographs below a large banner that read "On to Quantico, Jack and Myles"— photos of the team over the years, plus a few of the two agents as children.

At the center of the display was a photo of two identical tow-headed boys, perhaps five or six years old; one with a yellow, hand-colored paper plate perched jauntily on his head, and the other covered in what appeared to be randomly scrunched and gathered tan washcloths. They were grinning from the confines of a red plastic swimming pool, which had been decorated to look like a cereal bowl. White fabric, with more washcloths and paper plates, was attached to the pool, and suspenders for each of the boys attached the "bowl" to them.

Tara walked over to him, a gleeful smirk on her face. She gave him a big hug, then giggled as she looked up at him. "So, who's Wheaties and who's bananas? Sam hasn't told me yet."

Myles tipped his nose up in a classically characteristic pose. "Fittingly, I was the fiber and he was the fruit. And that _stays_ between us until—"

"Daddy's the cereal!"

Rachel's voice stopped everyone cold. She'd been looking at the picture the whole time, so there was no way she saw him tell Tara; he had no idea how she'd figured it out. Heads turned, and laughter erupted.

"So much for what I believe is my last remaining secret," he sighed, slipping an arm around his wife's waist. "Is this what I have to look forward to all evening?"

She laughed. "I promise you will enjoy yourself. Only a little of it is mortifying."

"Yeah, Myles," Tara added as they wandered toward one of the tables. "Just that picture… and, of course, your 'Italian Beach Boy' video."

He stopped and stared down at her. "You _wouldn't_." The only response he got was a sweet smile; he shook his head in amused resignation. "What am I saying? Of course you would."

"Sam wanted to do a sequel, if that makes you feel any better," she grinned.

Elizabeth laughed at that. "I've never even seen the first one. That doesn't even seem fair, since it was the Coffee Club just after that bachelor dinner where you and I first met, love."

"Just think of it as a dramatization of that afternoon on the beach in Monaco," Myles replied ruefully, his face flushing scarlet. "It won't come as so much of a shock then."

The psychologist started laughing even harder. "Oh, oh dear…"

He was rescued from any further immediate abuse by a deep voice ringing over the conversations, as well as a flickering of the lights for those who were Deaf.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Ted Garrett, leaning on a cane but still as intimidating as ever, smiled evenly. "My, that sounded way too official for this gathering." He turned slightly to make sure that Brian Rhodes, who was interpreting, had caught up. "We just wanted to let you know that they've finished setting up the buffet, and the sooner we eat, the sooner the accolades, and the roastings, can begin."

Myles shook his head as Jack nudged him again. "I have never seen a group of people move so fast," the Harvard grad commented as lines rapidly formed. "One would think that dinner isn't the most-anticipated portion of the evening."

"We can still sneak out, while they're distracted," the shorter man whispered.

Myles laughed. "My wife would kill me. If I can endure it, so can you. And the food here is worth it."

* * *

* * *

Tara rolled her eyes as she listened to her husband behind her. Sam was doing his level best to completely bewilder the catering assistants, and thoroughly entertaining his nieces and "nephew" in the process.

"Hey. Was this cooked in olive oil? Yeah, would you check? It's kind of important." The attendant pursed his lips and with a nod, disappeared through a doorway. "Now, Zach. The trick is to keep going. Get some if you want, yeah. Okay. Now, see? He's coming back. Shh."

The attendant nodded. "Yes, sir. The potatoes were cooked in olive oil."

"What?" Sam looked bewildered. "Olive oil? What are you talking about? Oh...you're probably looking for my brother. He's over there. Highly allergic to soy, terribly so. It's alright, happens all the time."

The girls giggled at the attendant's confused stare, and Zach stifled laughter with one hand when the man moved away.

"Now. Can any of you tell me what this is?" Sam pointed to a dark green dish, probably made with spinach. When none of his faithful followers answered, he sang out loudly, "GROSS! Let's go on."

Elizabeth, who was in front of Tara, leaned over to her. "It's a good thing Logan and Joseph are in the other line with Connie. My sister would kill me if they learned the 'Sam-speak' as well."

Tara shook her head, smiling. "I think this is one of the few reasons I'm glad we didn't have kids of our own. One Sam in the house most times is plenty."

They were interrupted by a query. "Tara? Are these clams? Or scallops? I can never tell. I hate fancy food. Isn't scallop like a wall molding? Are they supposed to be edible?" He grinned as a caterer whispered to him. "Oh. It's crab? Really? It doesn't look like crab. Does it feel like crab?" Sam looked down the buffet line at her, and poked the offending pan.

"Just don't eat it, then, Sam." Tara advised with a grin.

Sam put some on his plate anyway, and then looked down at the trio on his heels. "Now, if Gregory were here, we'd be having all kinds of gourmet food. Hamburgers. Fries. Alfredo. The whole shibang, the works. Pizza, even. Myles never lets me plan out parties, and I can't figure out why."

Tara was about to rescue the poor caterers when another voice sounded from behind Zachary.

"Now there's what I like to see. A man who's not afraid to let someone know when the cuisine is confusing." Howie Fines was right behind Jack and Sue's son.

Sam gave a brief bow, and helped Rachel keep her plate from tipping on his way back up. "I knew there had to be someone else who appreciated a good meat-lovers. Man. I'm so glad I'm not vegan anymore."

Sarah tugged on her Uncle's sleeve. "What's vegan?"

"It's a kind of alien. They only eat tofu and peanut butter." Sam continued moving down the buffet line.

"Wow." Zach's eyes were wide. "You were a _alien_, Uncle Sam? Cool!"

"It would explain a great deal." Tara took her husband's arm, her expression one of affectionate exasperation. "Why don't we go sit down before they kick us out of here?"

"They can't do that." Sam confided quietly, though he followed her. "I own the manager."

Behind Howie, Jack was chuckling in spite of himself. "Some things never change."

"One can only wonder what life would have been like had _Sam_ been Sue's snitch, instead of Howie," Myles commented dryly.

The snitch turned, half-munching on a raw carrot as he replied. "I hope you're not insinuating that he's as humorous as _me_, Myles, buddy. Because I can tell you, Howie Fines has done some fine— heh, Fines!— snitch work in his day, and kept it lively as possible."

After Jack translated for Sue, she laughed as well. "I think 'lively' would have been the catch-word for _either_ of them."

* * *

* * *

Having been to enough of these sort of gatherings, Myles opted to bypass the steak and potato; instead, he had piled his plate with an assortment of smaller items. As one of the "guests of honor," he knew he'd spend a fair amount of dinner responding to voices and touches, like the one on his shoulder right now. He turned, and caught Sue's bright smile out of the corner of his eye as she, too, recognized the person in front of them.

"Troy!" Myles stood and signed HI at the same time, his own smile warm and genuine. Ever since the car-thief-turned-artist had given_ City at Night_ to him as a gift, Myles had closely followed Troy Meyer's work thru his schooling and beyond, though he'd never let on. Capturing nationwide popularity very quickly among both the Deaf Culture and the mainstream art world, Troy had left DC about eight years ago for New York and a very lucrative gallery showing. The Leland home was graced with several of his paintings, though Myles hadn't seen him since then.

GOOD-I-SEE-YOU, Troy signed, then caught Myles' hand in a still-crushing grip. YOU F-B-I 2-5 YEARS, YOU ALIVE YOU, BIG PROBLEMS YOU NO, IMPRESSED ME YES.

The deaf man's brows popped up when Myles not only didn't turn to Sue for a translation, but smoothly replied, FUNNY FUNNY YOU. SAME YOU. YOU TROUBLE PUSH-ASIDE NOW FOCUS ART SUCEED. He signed "succeed" in a bigger space than normal, and raised his brows to indicate the level of Troy's career. IMPRESSED SAME-SAME. YOUR WIFE? He indicated the redhead at Troy's side.

YES. SORRY. MY WIFE, J-I-L-L-I-A-N. THIS M-Y-L-E-S L-E-L-A-N-D THIRD.

The woman smiled, signing as she spoke. "Nice to meet you. Troy's been telling me about the lot of you." She responded to the several sets of raised brows. "I'm a CODA; hearing, but culturally Deaf. Troy and I met at his opening in Philadelphia."

They made introductions all around, and Elizabeth offered the two remaining chairs at their table to the couple. Troy had barely sat down when he tapped Myles' arm, unable to stand it anymore. SIGN YOU GOOD! he stated. WHY LEARN? S-U-E PRESSURE YOU?

Myles laughed and aimed a grin at Sue before replying. TRY BULLY SHE, BUT KNOW BETTER. SHE HURT NO ONE SHE Then he indicated Rachel, who had greeted them politely but was currently busy with a rather messy serving of ribs. R-A-C-H-E-L, MY DAUGHTER, DEAF. M-E-N-I-N-G-I-T-I-S SHE HAVE FOUR YEARS-OLD. SHE 9-0, 9-5 D-B NOW. He shifted his body slightly as he indicated her right and left decibel levels. CULTURE LEARN NOW FOUR YEARS PAST.

Troy shook his head, smiling. ME EXPECT YOU SIGN SKILL? NOT. SURPRISE ME. Then he laughed. NO. ME SHOCKED ME. GOOD FATHER YOU INVOLVED HER CULTURE.

They all chatted for a few minutes, catching up and covering the Cultural "life history" for Jillian. Several "past adventures" were shared, from when Troy first met the team, and soon the artist's wife was laughing.

"I knew when I met him that there must be some colorful things in his past," she said and signed. "he was far too 'normal' for most of the art scene I'd experienced."

WHY LOVE ME YES? he replied with a smirk.

Jillian wrinkled her nose at him, but her brown eyes were filled with affection. YES, HAVE CHILD ME AGREE ALSO. She patted her stomach and smiled.

YOU PREGNANT? Sue signed. WONDERFUL-WONDERFUL.

Troy was beaming. BABY COME NEXT M-A-Y. PHILA WE BUY HOUSE. ME WORK STUDIO OVER GARAGE. He suddenly tapped Myles again. REMEMBER NOW ME. ANOTHER PAINTING I-GIVE-YOU UNLESS NO MORE YOU WANT.

NEVER, Myles replied. BUY SEVERAL YOUR PAINTINGS PAST YEARS. I HONOR I.

Troy got up for a moment and went to the doorway; he retrieved not one, but two wrapped canvases, and returned to the table. One of them he handed to Jack; the other to Myles.

WAIT, he signed, EXPLAIN ME FIRST. CALL L-I-Z, S-U-E BEFORE PAINT. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to in a way they'd understand. Then he turned to his wife and signed EXPLAIN YOU PLEASE. THEM UNDERSTAND ME WANT.

Jillian smiled and nodded. "Troy wanted to do a subject that would reflect your years at the Bureau; a theme, if you will. Sue and Elizabeth gave him the same idea, so he did two versions of it."

She'd been signing as she spoke, and he patted her shoulder in thanks when she finished. HOPE YOU LIKE, he signed to the men.

Myles pulled the brown paper off the canvas he held, and drew in a breath; Elizabeth leaned over his shoulder so she could see, then looked at Troy with tears in her eyes and signed PERFECT, BEAUTIFUL. Sue was doing the same with the painting Jack had unwrapped. Each agent turned their canvas around, and a soft chorus of _ohh_s went around the table.

Two medieval knights— the one in Jack's painting on foot, and the one in Myles' on a white steed— stared off their respective canvases at some unseen danger. Only the shadow of a scaly tail was visible in a lower corner. Each knight had one hand on the jeweled hilt of his sword and, in the other, a flaming torch held high. The expressions on their faces, hidden only slightly behind their chain-mail hoods, captured both confidence and trepidation. Mottled backgrounds encompassed the blue and gold of the Bureau seal.

WOW, Jack managed.

Jillian tilted her head toward the agents, then touched her husband's shoulder. NOTICE NOW ME. she signed. CAPTURE THEIR FACES A-LITTLE-BIT. SEE IT NOW ME.

"Troy." Myles' hands were shaking just slightly, to match the emotion in his voice. "These are absolutely incredible. Thank you."

WELCOME, Troy responded. CONGRATULATIONS NEW JOB. YOU-TWO GOOD TEACHER MAKE. YOUR PARTY, MAKE GOOD EXCUSE ME COME VISIT DC AGAIN.

YOU SIT WITH US, YOU EAT, Elizabeth said, YOU-TELL-ME EVERYTHING.

Jillian grinned wickedly. "The way Troy eats," she quipped as she signed, "those caterers will wear out their shoes getting refills."

Jack laughed as Troy pretended to swat his wife's arm. "Famous artist or not, you haven't changed a bit."

GOOD. Sue smiled at her old friend. NEVER BORING.

* * *

* * *

When everyone had finished dinner and was working on the dessert selections, Ted Garrett stood up again. Brian was right next to him, as interpreter, as he stepped up to a simple podium with a microphone.

"Well, we've reached the moment you've all been waiting for," he boomed, granting a rare grin to the two agents. "An opportunity to tell these guys what you really think of them." An ripple of laughter went around the room, and more than one face blossomed into a wicked grin.

"To start things off," Garrett continued, "we thought we'd take a bit of a step back, in a sense. Ten years ago, a colleague of Myles and Jack, a fine agent, was killed in the line of duty, leaving behind a wife and an unborn child. As is tradition among most law-enforcement groups, those who remain take a keen interest in the family, offering any help that might be needed, and this was no exception."

He tipped his head toward the table where the agents sat with their families and smiled. "Bobby Manning's teammates made sure that his son had positive role models to supplement that of his widow, Darcy D'Angelo, and that Robert, Jr. knew the type of man his father was. Darcy remarried five years ago, to _Post_ columnist Noah Grafton, and Noah adopted Bobby's son last year. But the family has continued to include the team in Robert's life. So, without further ado, may I introduce to you… Robert Manning Grafton."

There was a hushed murmur and a fluttering of hands as a young boy of ten approached the podium. With dark hair, blue eyes and the same killer grin that had captured his mother's heart a long time ago, Robert was fast becoming a man in his own right. He had a serious nature more like his mother, and his stepfather had fostered a wonderful relationship that was evident in the way the boy carried himself. Even now, where most ten-year-olds might have been shaking to face the considerable audience, Robert had a poise that was unmistakable.

"Hey guys," he grinned, prompting a soft chuckle around the room. "Mom said a roast is supposed to be fun, so I didn't have to be real formal or anything." He glanced at his mother and stepfather, who nodded encouragement even as they smiled. "Tara called a couple weeks ago and told us about the party, and she asked me if there was anything I might want to say to you before you…" He grinned. "I think she said 'before they head over the hill.'"

There was more laughter at that, and Jack made a show of throwing his linen napkin at the computer tech.

"I guess the biggest thing I could say is thank you," Robert continued, running a hand through his hair, an absent gesture. "I've known you guys as long as I can remember. Jack, Myles, Brian, Earl… the rest of my father's team. You've always been there, making sure that I had someone to look up to, making sure I minded Mom…" He rolled his eyes a little, making everyone laugh and Darcy glance heavenward in a teasing _thank-you-God_ expression. "You guys, or at least one of you, made it to every t-ball and soccer game, and pretty much every major event in my life. That means a lot, especially when I've seen some of my friends who have only their moms."

He paused, and glanced toward his stepfather again. "Even when Mom got married again, you guys were still there. You made sure that I knew about my real father, told me lots of stories about him… sometimes I forget that I never actually got to meet him. It's kind of cool – I feel like I can say I've had two great dads. That's why I decided to use both names when Noah adopted me last year. So I can honor them both."

He shrugged. "I had a couple of stories to share," he said, "but I think maybe I've said what I needed to. Uncle Jack, Uncle Myles… thanks." He grinned again and returned to his seat amid the applause that followed.

Sue leaned forward a little and smiled at the two men. GOOD BOY, GOOD SON. YOU-TWO GOOD JOB. B-O-B-B-Y PROUD.

Ted Garrett resumed his emcee position. "Who's next?"

* * *

* * *

Myles shook his head, smiling, as the last of the guests moved toward the exit; behind him, his wife and daughters were still giggling.

Jack laid a hand on his shoulder. "You _do_ realize that auction video will now join the infamous New York roast beef sandwich in FBI legend. You'll never live it down."

The blond agent chuckled. "I'm just afraid some shot from it will show up on the cover of a Nora Albright novel someday."

"Lucky for you she doesn't write romance thrillers," the shorter agent quipped. "That was nice of her to send an email for Tara to read, since her book tour didn't allow for a stop in DC right now."

"See, now, that wasn't so bad." Sue had come over after rescuing Sam from Zachary— or the other way around. She gave her husband a bright smile. "All that worry over nothing."

Myles grinned. "'Nothing,' she says. Wouldn't you think that after fifteen years someone would have learned that putting a microphone in the hands of Howie Fines is just _asking_ for trouble?"

He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to find Rachel there; her blue-grey eyes were half-hidden behind drooping lashes. Myles picked her up and let her rest her head on his shoulder, then signed RACHEL ASLEEP with a raised brow for the question.

She nodded slowly, then replied YES, ME TIRED.

"Then I think it's time to go home." He took the jacket Elizabeth handed him and draped it over his daughter's back, then turned to Jack and Sue. "Zach coming over tomorrow after his soccer game?"

"If you don't mind," Sue responded. "Jack's going to help me with my seminar tomorrow."

The Harvard grad smiled. "It's no problem. I haven't a thing planned, and I intend to enjoy that sensation to its fullest." He held out a hand to his former unit leader. "See you at school on Monday?" he quipped.

Jack laughed and shook his hand. "See you at school."


	13. Epilogue: Turn Around

**Epilogue: Turn Around…

* * *

**

The mahogany walls of the study glowed in the lamplight, the Bach concerto was playing, and the scratch of the fountain pen was familiar. This time, the nostalgia had no sense of melancholy; only peace and warm memories.

_And so it ends— this chapter at least. To close the book on a 25-year journey seems so final; yet I know that the adventure is just beginning. Fresh minds, new challenges… and the opportunity to be available as my little girls grow into confident, beautiful young women. _

He paused, sat back in his chair and thumbed the "pause" button on the CD remote. A song had popped into his head, and he let it flow out in the upper part of his range, a clear tenor:

_Where are you going, my little one, little one,_

_Where are you going, my baby, my own?_

_Turn around and you're two, turn around and you're four,_

_Turn around, you're a young girl going out of my door._

_Turn around, turn around,_

_Turn around, you're a young girl going out of my door._

Tears slid over his cheeks, tears of joy and certain anticipation of all that lay ahead…

_Where are you going, my little one, little one?_

_Dirndls and petticoats, where have you gone?_

_Turn around and you're tiny, turn around and you're grown,_

_Turn around, you're a young wife with babes of your own._

_Turn around, turn around,_

_Turn around, you're a young wife with babes of your own._

"I always love to hear you sing." Elizabeth laid a hand on his shoulder, her voice soft and filled with affection. "You okay?"

He nodded, drawing her onto his lap and burying his hands in her hair. He kissed her long and intensely, then brushed his lips across her cheek as he replied. "I'm fine," he whispered. "Let's go snuggle in the hammock for a little while."

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Myles. It's almost the end of October. They're predicting _snow_ for tomorrow night."

He laughed softly. Picking up his pen, he made one last note in his journal, then moved her off his lap and stood, pulling her back into his embrace as soon as he could. "That's why coats and blankets were invented," he murmured against her ear. "So crazy people like us could spend a cold, clear night out on the patio in October, curled up in the hammock, gazing at the stars. What do you say, love?"

Elizabeth considered him for a moment, her emerald eyes bright with fond emotion. "I say let's," she smiled, and twined her fingers with his as they walked out of the study.

The leather journal, its pages worn from reminiscent journeys, remained at its post, a sentinel for one man's heart and soul, and speaking in its bold script of a future bright with promise:

**Turn the page… and we will love these days.**


End file.
